


Lessons to be Learned

by arysa13



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Corporal Punishment, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Spanking, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Smut, Spanking, Teacher Bellamy, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-07-15 12:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 55,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16063250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: At the private girls boarding school he works at, Clarke Griffin is the only student Bellamy can't seem to get to behave. Bellamy is against corporal punishment, but desperate times call for desperate measures.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will probably continue this if y'all want.

In five years of teaching, Bellamy has had to deal with some pretty awful students. His first job out of college was at a run-down public school in a low socio-economic area, where the student engagement levels were low and he was constantly having to break up fights and confiscate phones, among other things.

Everyone congratulated him when he got the job at Arkadia Girls Grammar. They said the students would be much easier to deal with, the facilities would be better, and the grades would be higher. All of those are somewhat true.

The school has money pumped into it from the government, despite being a private school, and the fees are exorbitant, so yeah, the facilities are much better. Which obviously leads to higher grades. The girls are better behaved, for the most part. Kids being late for class or just not showing up was a common occurrence at his old school, and here it almost never happens. He barely ever has to confiscate phones or yell at the class to stop talking and listen. But he’s not so sure the girls are better behaved. He thinks they’re sneakier. He thinks they’re just much better at not getting caught.

Well, most of them. Everyone in his senior history class, except one Clarke Griffin. He’s constantly giving her detention or sending her to the principal’s office for being late, passing notes, wearing the incorrect uniform, talking out of turn, distracting other students.

It’s not like she doesn’t know how to be sneaky. According to the other teachers, they’ve never had a problem with Clarke. He’s the only one who can’t seem to get her to behave.

He’s lamenting this in the staff room at lunch, after another class that would have been perfect had he not had to send Clarke to Principal Diyoza’s office fifteen minutes in because she was blasting music through her headphones and refused to turn it off.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, Bellamy,” Diyoza says, sitting across the table from him, a large cup of coffee in her hands. “I appreciate that you find Clarke difficult, but you can’t keep sending her to me every time you have the slightest problem.”

Bellamy groans. “I know,” he sighs. “I have all these behavioural strategies that I used with the kids at my old school. But nothing works with Clarke.”

“You need some new strategies,” Diyoza tells him. She studies him cautiously. “You know we allow corporal punishment here, right?”

Bellamy flushes. He does know. He’s never once actually thought about _using_ it. “Yes,” he says. “I’d prefer not to do that if I don’t have to. Hitting kids doesn’t really seem right.”

Diyoza shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee. “Whatever works, I say,” she says. “It’s not really about the pain anyway,” she continues. “Most girls are so embarrassed to be spanked in front of their classmates that they don’t want to risk it happening again.”

Bellamy screws up his nose. “You think that would work on Clarke?”

“It could. As far as I know no one’s ever had to use it on her before. She’s normally a model student. She must really hate you,” Diyoza grins.

Bellamy lets out a controlled breath. “I’ll think about it.”

 

\---

The truth is, he wouldn’t even consider it if he wasn’t desperate. But that night, when he’s in his room in the teachers’ housing quarters, he looks up the school rules on his laptop.

He scrolls down to the corporal punishment section.

_If a student misbehaves during class, a teacher may use physical punishment at their discretion._

_The following guidelines must be abided by when enforcing corporal punishment on a student:_

  1. _No implement may be used._
  2. _The palm of the hand must be open._
  3. _No more than ten slaps will be inflicted at any one time._
  4. _The slaps will occur beneath the skirt but over the undergarments._



Bellamy reads the rules three times, his hand scratching at his jaw. He’s pretty sure these rules were written when the school first started up and spanking kids was the norm, and all the teachers were probably nuns or something. Or at least women. But there’s nothing in the rules that says a man can’t do the spanking.

He shuts his laptop quickly. What the hell is he thinking? He can’t _spank_ a student, no matter how irritating he finds them. He’s just going to have to find another way to get Clarke to behave in class.

 

-

 

Clarke Griffin is late for class. Again.

She waltzes in, fifteen minutes after the bell, without so much as a _Sorry I’m late, Mr Blake._ Instead she gives him a smirk and pops her gum before making her way to her desk.

“You’re late.” Bellamy tells her calmly.

“Am I?” she asks innocently. The rest of the class titters in amusement.

“The bell went fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oops,” she shrugs.

He glares at her. She looks him dead in the eye and pops her gum again.

“No gum in class.”

“But I just started this piece,” she whines.

“Put it in the bin, Clarke.”

“Or what?” she snorts. “You’ll send me to Principal Diyoza? You know she gives me chocolate and lets me use my phone.”

Bellamy feels a surge of annoyance. The kind of frustration that has been building for months. He knows he’s losing and he feels like he could scream.

“You show up fifteen minutes late, no books, your shirt untucked, and you’re chewing gum. You think there won’t be a punishment for that?”

Clarke shrugs, uncaring. Bellamy continues.

“If that gum isn’t in the trash by the time I count to three, I’ll be enforcing corporal punishment,” he says.

Clarke stares at him. “You’re going to spank me?” she snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“One,” Bellamy says. The rest of the class watches this exchange with baited breath. He can feel the tension in the room. A couple of girls fidget nervously. Will he actually do it?

Clarke stays put.

“Two.”

She purses her lips at him defiantly. He cocks his head, giving her another couple of moments to change her mind. She doesn’t.

“Three.”

Clarke still doesn’t move.

“Come here, Clarke,” he says. Clarke still doesn’t move, but to his surprise she does look a little unsure. “Clarke.” He repeats. It’s as if something in his voice changes. He doesn’t yell. He never yells. But his commanding voice fills the room, throwing down a challenge. She can’t back down from a challenge. She slides out of her seat and makes her way to the front of the room.

He beckons her over, gesturing for her to stand on the other side of the desk with him. She does. She’s still looking at him like she thinks he won’t do it. His eyes don’t leave hers as he gives her the next instructions.

“Bend over, lift your skirt, and then put your hands on the desk.”

Clarke swallows, her face turning red. Perhaps Diyoza was right about this after all. Clarke keeps looking at him, as if waiting for him to change his mind. He doesn’t. He doesn’t repeat himself, either, just watches her, his arms folded, until she obeys.

Clarke turns to face the class, and bends over. She lifts her skirt. She’s wearing a fucking thong. A little white lacy thing, nestled between her ass cheeks. Not school approved underwear.

Bellamy feels his cock twitch. Fuck. Bad sign. He’s not allowed to be turned on by this. If the sight of a student’s ass in a thong gets him turned on, he probably shouldn’t even be a teacher. And he should definitely not go through with the punishment.

But if he doesn’t, that’s it. Clarke will never respect him. She’ll walk all over him again and again because she knows he’s just bluffing.

He clenches his jaw. “I’m going to give you five slaps,” he says. “Count.”

The rest of the class is dead silent as Bellamy brings his hand down on Clarke’s ass cheek. The sound of his open palm hitting her soft flesh fills the room. She winces. Bellamy pulls his hand away to see a red handprint on her ass. Perhaps that was too hard.

“One,” Clarke says, through gritted teeth.

He smacks her again, the other cheek this time, just as hard. Clarke gasps. The sound makes his cock twitch again. He’s fucking enjoying this, far more than he should.

“Two.”

He hits her again, and again.

“Three. Four.”

Her voice is trembling. So is her ass. She gives a strangled moan on the fifth slap. The sound goes straight to his groin. He’s hard. Rock hard. He glances down to see his erection straining against his pants, the large size of his cock jutting out, making it hard to conceal. From where he’s standing behind Clarke, he knows the class can’t see, but as soon as she moves, twenty-four girls are going to know he got turned on from spanking a student. Not exactly what he was going for.

“Five,” Clarke says. Bellamy folds his hands in front of his crotch and quickly sits down.

“You can go back to your seat now,” he says tersely. “And put your gum in the bin.”

Clarke smooths her skirt back down over her ass and walks back to her desk, spitting her gum into the trash on the way. Bellamy watches her take her seat gingerly. She’s quiet the rest of the class. Which Bellamy teaches from his chair, keeping his hard-on safely hidden behind his desk.

He thinks it will go away once he focuses on something else, but every time he makes eye contact with Clarke it sends another jolt to his cock, and he stays hard for the rest of the lesson.

The bell rings, and the girls pack up their things and leave the classroom.

“Stay where you are, Clarke,” Bellamy says. Strangely enough, Clarke obeys. He waits until they’re the only two left in the classroom. “I’m writing you up for detention for being out of uniform.”

“I’m not out of uniform!” Clarke protests.

“That thong you’re wearing is not school approved.”

“You’re giving me detention for wearing the wrong underwear?” she scoffs. “Who the fuck cares? No one can even see it.”

“Language, Clarke.”

Clarke glares at him. “I bet you fucking liked it. I bet it turned you on, you fucking pervert. That’s the only reason you’re doing this.”

Bellamy’s cock throbs. Something inside him must snap. He stands up, and Clarke’s gaze falls to his erection, her eyes widening, her pretty pink lips falling open in surprise. Struck silent, just like he wanted. He walks towards her, stopping directly in front of her desk, towering over her. She’s eye-level with his raging hard-on. She licks her lips, probably subconsciously. It does something to him.

She looks up, her big blue eyes blinking up at him.

“Promise me you’ll wear the correct uniform from now on, and I won’t send you to detention with Ms Sydney.”

“Ms Sydney?” Clarke scowls. “She hates me.”

“I know.” Diana is the only other teacher in the school who will sympathise with Bellamy about Clarke. Clarke actually behaves for Diana though. Why, Bellamy can’t seem to figure out. “Well?” he prompts.

Clarke purses her lips. “I won’t wear a thong again,” she says.  

“Good.”

Her eyes fall on his erection again. “Did you have that the whole time?”

Bellamy tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. “Class is over, Clarke. You can go now.”

 

-

It doesn’t really hit him, what he’s done, until he makes it back to his quarters at four-thirty. It’s like he’d been running on adrenalin, someone _else’s_ adrenalin, and now he’s just got his own body back. It hits him fucking hard.

He spanked a student. He spanked her pretty hard, and he fucking enjoyed it. He enjoyed it so much he got a fucking erection in class, and then he practically shoved it in her face.

Well, that’s an exaggeration. But he never should have let her know what spanking her did to him. Not only was it way over the line, but what if she uses it against him? Would anyone believe her?

He replays his actions over in his mind. Just thinking about her round ass, bright red and contrasting with her pretty white thong, gets him hard again. He shouldn’t jerk off over this, but he does anyway. He thinks about her ass, sticking out as she bends over his desk. He thinks about spanking her, wondering if maybe she enjoyed it as much as he did. He liked putting her in her place.

He thinks about pulling off her thong and shoving his aching cock into her pussy, and that’s when he comes, spurting his load all over himself within minutes.

He lies there for a moment, feeling ashamed of himself, before cleaning himself up. He decides to eat dinner in his room that night, instead of going to the dining hall. Perhaps some sleep will help him forget any of this ever happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm making this up as I go along jsyk
> 
> Feel free to suggest/request things you'd like to see from this fic

Clarke is the first one in class the following day, arriving before the bell has even gone.

Bellamy doesn’t look up from the test he’s grading when the classroom door opens, but then a pair of dainty hands fall on his desk in front of him, someone leaning over his desk, casting a shadow over the papers in front of him.

He glances up, and his eyes are level with a pair of large, perky tits and an enormous amount of cleavage. He’s not in the habit of noticing students’ breasts, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed Clarke’s, even before she practically shoved them in his face. He swallows and forces his eyes upwards to meet hers.

“Do your buttons up, Clarke.”

“Or what?”

Bellamy sighs. “Or I’ll send you to Principal Diyoza.”

He’d very much like to spank her again. But it’s for that very reason that he shouldn’t do it again. He can’t risk getting another erection in class. He should never have done it in the first place. It’s not like he didn’t know he gets off on giving a woman a spanking, it’s just that somehow, he thought it would be different with a student. And maybe it would have been if it had been any other student, but Clarke knows how to get under his skin.

She pouts, but she does what he asks, carefully doing up the undone buttons.

“I trust you’ve kept your promise from yesterday?” Bellamy says.

“You can check if you like.”

Bellamy flushes. “That won’t be necessary.”

“But how will you know if I’m following the rules or not?”

Bellamy hesitates. If she wants to show him her panties, who is he to stop her? And he really should check that she’s wearing appropriate underwear. It’s not that he wants to see. That would make him a creep.

He nods for her to continue and she smirks. Bellamy’s eyes drop to her skirt. Too short, probably. By a few inches. But if none of the other teachers are telling her off for it, he’s not going to bother.

Clarke grips the hem of her skirt and drags it slowly up her thighs, then up to her waist. Bellamy almost has a fucking heart attack. Instead of the white cotton panties he’d been expecting, he’s presented with a view of her bare fucking pussy. He stares at her shaved mound, his mouth hanging open, his cock immediately hard, straining against his fly.

“Clarke,” he says, his voice strangled. “Where are your panties?”

“Oops,” she says innocently. “I guess I forgot.”

He can’t drag his eyes away. “You promised you’d wear appropriate underwear.”

“I promised I wouldn’t wear a thong,” she reminds him. And fuck, she’s right. He should have seen this coming.  

Bellamy has a vision of running his tongue along her slit, and his cock gets even harder. Looks like another lesson of teaching from behind his desk after all. Lucky the girls are sitting a test today and there isn’t much actual teaching required.

The bell rings and Clarke drops her skirt back down. She turns and takes a seat at the front of the room, right in front of his desk.

Bellamy’s pulse is racing, and he’s sure his face is bright red. He tries to regain his composure as other students start filing into the room.

He starts the test, and goes back to marking the tests of another class, occasionally looking up to make sure none of the girls are cheating. His cock is still hard as hell, and he keeps looking to Clarke, but for once she’s actually focused on the task in front of her.

She finishes the test in record time and brings it up to him silently, and returns to her seat. He glances over her answers, and it seems like she’s actually done pretty well. He hates that she can slack off in his class all year, and still manage to do all the things she needs to to get good grades. It’s infuriating.

He looks up at her again, and this time she’s staring back at him, sucking on the end of her pen. She spreads her knees and hikes her skirt up a little further, giving him another eyeful of her pink slit.

She’s such a fucking slut. Even the girls back at his old school who got caught sucking dick behind the sports shed weren’t this brazen. They’d flirt with him, sure. He’s used to that. The girls here do it too. It’s easy to ignore.

No girl has ever _exposed_ themselves to him before.

He quickly feels bad for calling her a slut, even in his mind. He’s not normally one to judge a woman on her sexual exploits. Then he wonders if Clarke might actually like being called a slut. He’d like to test it out.

His cock throbs painfully. He shifts in his seat, trying to readjust himself surreptitiously so that his boner isn’t as obvious. He tries to go back to marking the other tests, but every time he looks up to check on the class, the first thing he sees is Clarke’s pussy. He can’t tell her to close her legs or go and put some panties on, because that makes _him_ the pervert. Which he is, he realises. He’s fucking lusting after one of his students. And she’s eighteen, so it’s not as bad as it could be. But it’s still pretty fucking bad.

After what feels like an eternity, class finally ends. Clarke is the last one to leave, despite being at the front of the class. Maybe she’s expecting him to give her a detention, or at least a talking to, for not wearing any panties to class. But he just watches her pack up her things and go.

She stops at the door and turns back.

“Am I not in trouble?” she asks.

Bellamy shrugs. “What would you be in trouble for?”

She licks her lips. “Not wearing panties.”

“I have no reason to know that you aren’t wearing panties.”

Clarke nods before leaving the classroom. Is it his imagination, or does she seem a little disappointed?

Bellamy waits for the hallway to be empty before returning to his office, his dick sticking up like a fucking flagpole.

 

-

 

Bellamy lies in bed that night, trying not to think of Clarke. Of course, trying not to think about her means he is absolutely thinking about her. Showing him her pussy, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Knowing it would get him hard. She’s a fucking tease.

He’s hard again now, but he’s not going masturbate this time. He’s a grown adult, not a teenager. He can control his urges.

God, he doesn’t even know why she makes him so fucking horny. It’s not like he’s starved for sex. He goes home at least every second weekend, mostly to check on his mom and sister, but he also has a couple of women who never say no to a good fucking.

And if he gets desperate during the week, he invites Gina, one of the librarians, to his room. She’s usually down.

But Clarke has him feeling like a fifteen-year-old kid again. Erections he can’t control, constant thoughts about sex. He can’t remember the last time he was this horny. It’s fucking embarrassing.

He eventually falls asleep, despite his painful erection. He dreams of Clarke, bent over his desk, naked, his cock inside her. He wakes up, face down, panting, grinding into his mattress, on the edge of orgasm. He can’t bring himself to stop, and with a few more thrusts he’s coming, soiling his sheets with his thick hot seed.

He lies there, breathing hard, feeling guilty. Fucking hell. He’s a sick bastard. He’s having wet dreams about a student, getting himself off by humping his fucking mattress like a horny teenager, not the twenty-seven-year-old man he is. He needs to get a grip before this gets out of control.

 

-

 

She’s not wearing panties again. She’s sitting in the front row again, legs spread wide, pretty little pussy on display for him. He imagines her putting her hand between her legs and fingering herself under the desk.

She’s forgone a bra this time too. He can tell because her shirt is too small, the material too thin, stretched across her massive tits obscenely, the buttons stretched to their limit. He can see her dark pink nipples through the shirt, and the pointed tips poke out, begging to be sucked.

She’d only taken her sweater off after she sat down, so he knows the show is just for him. He wants to grab her nipples and twist. Hear her beg him to stop, promise she’ll be good from now on, though he knows deep down she’d enjoy it.

He should tell her to put the sweater back on. Send her to Principal Diyoza. But for one thing, that would mean Clarke wins whatever little game she’s playing. And for another, he’s enjoying the view too much.

He’s found a pair of pants that hide his erection better than the others, so he can actually go back to teaching his class properly. There’s still a bulge visible, but at least his cock isn’t acting like a fucking tent pole anymore.

It’s odd, but other than her little tease show, Clarke is perfectly behaved. It’s like it’s enough for her to know she’s got him hard. To know she’s torturing him so sweetly.

She’s the last to leave again, moving slowly, like she wants him to call her out on her slutty behaviour. Punish her for wearing her uniform incorrectly.

“Clarke,” Bellamy says as she reaches the door. She turns quickly, eager.

“Yes, Mr Blake?”

“You might want to put your sweater back on. I don’t think Ms Sydney will find your nipples as pleasing as I do.”

Clarke flushes, and for a moment Bellamy feels like he’s won this round.

“Why won’t you punish me?”

“You’ve been so well behaved. Do you want to be punished?”

Clarke opens her mouth to answer, but quickly closes it again. She shakes her head. “Of course not.”

Bellamy thinks they’re done, so he turns to pack up his things. But Clarke isn’t finished.

“You’re a pervert for looking at my nipples. I didn’t even know you could see them,” she says. Bellamy raises an eyebrow at her. He knows she’s lying. “I should tell Principal Diyoza you’ve been staring at my pussy for two days straight.”

Bellamy looks at her in shock. He isn’t sure what has just happened. She’s been teasing him on purpose for the last couple of days, and now she’s trying to act like he fucking asked her to take off her underwear and show him her pussy. Would she really tell? He could get fired for this.

He imagines what she’d say.

_Principal Diyoza, Mr Blake sexually harassed me. I didn’t have any clean underwear so I went without, and Mr Blake kept looking. I think he had an erection. Then he said he liked looking at my nipples._

She could tell whatever lies she wanted. There’s no scenario where Bellamy comes off looking like the victim. Not even the truth.

Clarke continues. “Of course, I didn’t like being spanked, so I thought I’d try behaving in class. But since you’re clearly never going to do it again, I may as well go back to my old ways. Maybe even worse.”

“Clarke,” he says, confused. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she snaps, and stalks from the room, leaving Bellamy bewildered. He doesn’t think she’ll tell. He’s pretty sure she won’t. Regardless, he needs this to stop. Has to stop playing her game and get over whatever little infatuation he has with her. Otherwise, things could end very, very badly.  

 

-

 

Bellamy heads home that weekend. His sister, Octavia, and his mom, live about two hours from the school in the town where he grew up, and where he had his first teaching job.

He’d love to send Octavia to a school like Akardia Girls Grammar, but even with his private school salary he can’t afford it. Still, she’s a senior at the best school in town, which is still a public school, but a relatively high-end public school.

He spends Saturday afternoon catching up with his family, but Octavia has a party to go to that night, and Aurora has to work. He figures it’s the perfect time to fuck Clarke out of his system.

Normally he’d call Echo. Sometimes Roma. Tonight, he calls Bree. Blonder, more petite. Easier to pretend she’s someone else.

She sounds pleased to hear from him.

“You’re going to think I’m lying, but I was just thinking about you,” she says.

“Is that so?” Bellamy smirks.

“You’re in town?”

“Sure am.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“How do you feel about roleplay?”

Bree laughs. “What role am I playing?”

“Naughty school girl?”

“Ooh, I like,” she says, and Bellamy can feel himself getting hard already. “I think I have something I can wear.”

“No panties,” he tells her.

“Yes sir.” Her voice is playful.

“It might be a little rough.”

“I like it rough.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon.”

He doesn’t call her Bree that night. He mostly calls her _dirty little slut._ But he might accidentally call her Clarke a couple of times too.


	3. Chapter 3

Bellamy isn’t sure what to expect come Monday. He has no idea if Clarke means to make good on any of her threats, or how she’s going to act.

He’d spent half the weekend with Bree, and he’s still not sure he’s fucked Clarke out of his system. Regardless, he has a plan. He’s just going to ignore her. She clearly wants attention, so he just won’t give it to her, and then she’ll stop. It’s so simple, he doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it earlier.

He’s almost disappointed when she isn’t there. But then he’s relieved. He can finally have a normal fucking class for once.

He’s halfway through explaining the task for the day when the door swings open and Clarke struts in. He glances at her, but keeps talking as she makes her way to the back of the room – her usual seat of late, at the front, has been taken by some other eager student. Good. Less temptation.

He tries not to watch her ass in her short skirt. And he’s definitely not wondering whether or not she’s wearing panties.

The activity he’s given the girls is basically just simple reading comprehension – read the textbook and answer the questions. Fun class activities are kind of frowned upon at Arkadia Girls Grammar.

He’s not focusing on Clarke, but he can’t help but notice she’s defiantly not opening her textbook. He forces himself not to say anything. If she doesn’t want to learn anything, that’s her problem. Some people in his class _do_ want to learn.

Harper puts her hand up and Bellamy goes over to help her. Clarke gets her phone out and starts texting. Fine. As long as she’s not disrupting the other students, it doesn’t matter.

Harper’s question makes him realise there’s a mistake in the textbook. He heads back to the front of the room.

“Girls, listen up,” he says. “Harper has just pointed out to me—”

He looks up. Someone’s phone is ringing. No surprise, it’s Clarke. Bellamy grits his teeth. Clarke looks him dead in the eye as she answers.

“Hello?” she says sweetly.

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, trying to remain calm. “Put the phone away. Now.”

“In a minute,” Clarke brushes him off. She goes back to her conversation. “It’s just my stupid history teacher.”

Bellamy marches down the aisle to the back of the class. He stands over her, folding his arms. Anyone else would be intimidated. In fact, he thinks he does see Clarke falter a little. But she still doesn’t hang up the phone. Bellamy snatches it from her hand. He glances at the screen. _Roan._ Who the fuck is Roan? Her boyfriend?

Bellamy puts the phone to his ear. “Clarke can’t talk right now. She’ll have to call you back later.” He hangs up and puts the phone in his pocket. “Principal Diyoza’s office. Now.”

Clarke pokes her tongue out, but she gathers her unopened books and stalks out of the room haughtily. Bellamy shakes his head, trying to regain his good mood.

“Sorry about that, girls—”

“You know she has a crush on you, right?” Harper tells him.

“What?” he says, sure he can’t have heard correctly.

“That’s why she acts like that. She’s a perfect little goody-two-shoes know-it-all for every other teacher. As if you’d ever go for someone like her.”

“A student, you mean?” Bellamy says pointedly.

One of the other girls, Raven, snorts out a laugh. “A fucking prude.”  

“Language, Raven.”

“Sorry, Mr Blake,” she grins. “It was fucking hilarious when you spanked her though.”

The rest of the class titters, signalling their agreement.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her face go that red before,” Harper laughs.

“Or her ass,” Raven adds.

“That’s enough,” Bellamy says. “Clarke’s your friend. You shouldn’t talk about your friends like that.”

Raven snorts again. “She’s not our friend. Clarke doesn’t have any friends.”

“She thinks she’s better than everyone,” Maya pipes up.

“Stuck up bitch,” Harper mutters.

“I said that’s _enough_ ,” Bellamy says, firmly enough that the girls shut up. He feels guilty all of a sudden. Does Clarke really not have any friends? Or is it just this particular class that doesn’t like her?

 

-

 

“I talked to Clarke,” Diyoza says, approaching Bellamy where he’s absently pushing his food around with his fork while reading the paper. In the staff room, of course. He generally avoids the dining hall at lunch unless he’s on duty there.

“Yeah?” Bellamy says, looking up. Diyoza plonks herself across from him.

“First time you’ve sent her to me in almost a week,” Diyoza muses.

“Yeah, I— uh—” Bellamy stammers.

Diyoza smirks. “Relax, I know you spanked her.”

“I only did it the once,” Bellamy says quickly.

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Diyoza rolls her eyes. “Clarke is convinced you’re quote _too chicken_ to do it again.”

Bellamy shrugs. “I tested it out. It didn’t work.”

“It did work, and you have to do it again to prove you will. That’s the only way she’ll fall in line.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “No. I feel bad for her. The other girls told me today that none of them like her.” Plus, there’s the whole _getting an erection in class_ thing. But he can’t exactly tell Diyoza about that.

Diyoza sighs. “Fine. But you and Clarke need to sit down and work something out because it’s not my job to babysit her every time you have a hissy fit.”

“A hissy fit?” Bellamy scowls, but Diyoza is already walking away.

“I told her she has to apologise to you so you can use the opportunity to figure out some strategies between you. I know she wants to do well in class,” Diyoza says as she walks away.

Bellamy sighs, knowing Diyoza is right. If the other girls in his class are right, and the reason Clarke is so badly behaved in his class is because she has a crush on him, then they need to find a way to move past that, and whatever else has happened between them.

 

-

 

Bellamy stays up late that night. He has essays to mark that he’s been putting off, but he told the class he’d have them done by the end of the week, so he really needs to get started.

He’s about to give up and go to bed when his phone buzzes with a Twitter notification. He rarely uses Twitter, he’s probably tweeted twice in the entire five years he’s had an account, so he can’t imagine why anyone would be tweeting him. He doesn’t even follow anyone.

He grabs his phone and looks to see it’s a private message. From Clarke Griffin. He swallows.

_Diyoza said I have to apologize. So I made you an apology video._

And then there’s a link.

Bellamy eyes the link suspiciously. It’s probably a rickroll. Or a jumpscare. Or not even a video at all but a virus to infect his computer. Curiosity gets the better of him and he clicks it anyway. He presses play on the video.

Oh fuck. He can’t breathe. The video is of Clarke, alright. But she’s totally naked. She’s sitting on her bed in what must be her dorm room, knees spread, directly facing the camera. Her whole face isn’t in the shot, but it’s unmistakably her. The little beauty mark on the curve of her lip gives her away.

Bellamy salivates over her full, round tits, and her bare pussy. Fuck, she’s so fucking sexy. His cock is already at full attention just looking at her. She slips a hand between her legs and Bellamy almost groans out loud. She’s going to masturbate for him. Fuck. He shouldn’t watch this. He should exit the video now, pretend he never saw it. He keeps watching.

Clarke’s fingers trail up and down her slit, glistening with her juices. She’s so fucking wet. He’s desperate to know what she’s thinking about. Is she thinking about him? About him spanking her? Fucking her?

Her other hand fondles her tits, rolling a nipple between her fingers. The hand between her legs settles on her clit and she rubs herself. Her mouth opens in a gasp, and Bellamy quickly turns the volume up. He’s rewarded with a low moan escaping from her lips. His cock strains hard against his boxers, begging to be touched. _Not yet_ , he tells himself.

Clarke pulls her hand away and Bellamy feels a surge of disappointment. Is she done? He didn’t even get to see her come. But then her hand comes back into view, and she’s holding a big fucking pink dildo. Bellamy stops breathing again.

She lets the dildo glide between her pussy lips, covering it in her wetness. Then she presses the tip to her entrance. Bellamy watches with baited breath. She whimpers as she pushes it inside herself. Deeper and deeper until she’s got the whole thing inside her. She pulls her hand away so Bellamy can see the base of the dildo poking out, stretching her pussy wide, her juices leaking out around it.

She reaches back between her legs and pulls it out a little, sits up on her knees more. She sinks back down onto it, letting out a small whine. Then she really gets started. She rocks her hips against the dildo, bouncing up and down on top of it. Her huge tits jiggle uncontrollably as she fucks herself on the dildo. The sounds she’s making are fucking obscene. Breathy moans that only get more intense the closer she gets to orgasm.

She sounds like a desperate slut. She looks like a desperate slut. Bellamy wants to replace that dildo with his cock, show her what a cock really feels like. He’d love to hear her beg for it. He wants to hear her admit out loud that she’s nothing but a horny slut.

Her hand drops to her clit again, and Bellamy realises she must be close to coming.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” she moans. She holds the dildo inside herself as she comes. Her body shudders, and liquid pulses out around the dildo.

She pulls her hands away and lies back on the bed, panting heavily, the dildo still deep in her pussy. The video cuts off.

Bellamy’s pulse is racing, his cock is harder than it’s ever been. He opens Twitter on his laptop and clicks the video link again, pulling out his cock as he hits play. He doesn’t even last the whole video. He comes the second Clarke shoves the dildo into her pussy.

He watches it again. And again, and again, and again, until is dick it raw from friction and his thighs, his stomach, his chest, his desk, the floor are coated with his come.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments and suggestions! I hope this doesn't suck

Clarke is early for class again the next day. Bellamy knows she’s expecting him to say something about the video. He’s not going to give her the satisfaction.

She stops in front of his desk, looking smug. His eyes drop to her skirt. He swears it’s even shorter than yesterday. He’s sure that if she bent over, even just a little, he’d have a nice view of everything she’s got. How can anyone possibly think this girl is a prude?

“I’m not wearing panties, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Clarke says.

“I wasn’t,” he says shortly. He clears his throat, as if the action will rid him of any wayward thoughts. “Glad you could make it on time today,” he says pointedly. Clarke ignores him.

“Did you like the video?” she asks.

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “I never opened it,” he lies.

Clarke smirks. “Liar.”

“Believe whatever you want to believe, Clarke.”

“I know you watched it. You’re the only one who has access to it. And I can see the view count.”

Bellamy’s stomach drops, and he closes his eyes in defeat, his brow furrowed. He looks back to Clarke, and she’s wearing a victorious expression on her face. He doesn’t have anything to say to defend himself. How many times had he watched that video? Thirty? Forty? A hundred? Clarke knows the exact amount.

“Did you get off while you were watching?” Clarke asks him. She doesn’t wait for him to answer, not that he would. “I bet you did.”

He glares at her, feeling like a fool. God, there has to be some way he can get her back for this. Teach her a lesson. Get the upper hand.

“If it makes you feel better,” Clarke whispers, leaning in. “I was thinking about you. I was pretending that dildo was your cock.”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow at her. “You’ll need a much bigger dildo if you want it to feel anything like my cock,” he growls.

Clarke’s eyes widen and her jaw drops. Good. He’s finally shocked her. He smirks. She doesn’t have time to formulate a response before the classroom door opens and other students start walking in. Clarke gives Bellamy a pouty look before turning and walking to the back of the classroom. He tries not to feel disappointed that he isn’t going to see her pussy today.

The lesson goes by quickly, and Clarke doesn’t do anything particularly disruptive. She doesn’t do any work either. Just sits up the back with her headphones in. She seems surprised when he asks her to stay after class. Surprised, and maybe even a little… excited?

Bellamy finally speaks when the classroom is empty bar the two of them.

“You’ll be picking up rubbish with me after school,” he says.

Clarke looks aghast. “What for?” she complains.

“You didn’t do any work all class, and you still owe me an apology for yesterday.”

She pouts. “I gave you an apology.”

“I’m sure Principal Diyoza would love to see the apology video you made me.”

Clarke scowls.

“Meet me outside my office after your last class,” Bellamy continues. Clarke storms out of the classroom like a sullen child.

 

-

 

Bellamy tries not to show his surprise when Clarke actually shows up for garbage duty after school. He hands her a pair of gloves and leads her outside.

Compared with his old school, the grounds here are much cleaner. At his old school, they could have spent hours picking up trash and never have gotten the place clean. But this exercise isn’t really about making the grounds clean. They have cleaners here for that, and groundsmen.

He takes Clarke to a secluded courtyard by a building that doesn’t get used after school. There are a few wrappers around from lunch, and Bellamy tells Clarke to get started.

She stares at him. “With my _hands_?” she says, disgusted.

“That’s what the gloves are for,” Bellamy points out.

“I don’t get one of those picker upper things?”

Bellamy shrugs. “Couldn’t find them,” he says. A lie.

Clarke gives him a glare before marching over towards a stray wrapper. She bends at the waist to pick it up, and just as he’d hoped, her short skirt does nothing to cover her bare pussy.

It takes her a second to notice she’s on display, and then she quickly straightens, turning back to Bellamy, her face red. As if he hasn’t seen it all multiple times before. He smirks at her, and he sees it dawn on her that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

She narrows her eyes. Challenge accepted. She bends over again to pick up the rubbish, taking her time, letting Bellamy enjoy the view. She does the same with the other couple of wrappers. Bellamy holds out the plastic bag he’s holding and Clarke drops the wrappers in.

“Now what?” she asks.

“Come on,” he says.

He takes her to the front of the school. It’s usually pretty deserted at this time, as the grass behind the front fence is off limits, and there isn’t really anyone coming and going.

There are a couple of boys hanging by the front gate in uniforms that indicate they’re from another school nearby. Probably waiting for their girlfriends.

Clarke glances at them. “Mr Blake?” she says, sounding a little nervous. “What are we doing?”

There isn’t any rubbish floating around out here either. The front of the school is much more important appearance-wise than some random courtyard no one goes to. Luckily Bellamy came prepared.

“Face me,” he says. Clarke does so, her back to the front fence where the boys are standing. Bellamy drops a piece of paper in front of her. Clarke watches it fall. “Pick it up,” he says.

Clarke looks back up at him, her face bright red. “I can’t,” she says.

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t think I do.”

Clarke looks pained. “I’m not wearing any panties,” she reminds him. “They’ll see.”

“Who will see what?”

It doesn’t seem possible, but Bellamy swears Clarke’s face turns ever redder. He can’t quite believe she’s playing along. That she hasn’t snapped at him that he’s a pervert, or just stalked off by now.

“Those boys,” Clarke swallows. “They’ll see my pussy.”

“Ah,” Bellamy nods, as if he finally understands. “Well, what’s wrong with that? You seem to like showing off your pussy.”

Clarke shakes her head. “Only to you,” she says meekly, as if she’s embarrassed to admit it.

“Only me, huh?” Bellamy says, satisfied. He’s sure he looks smug as hell. “Okay, well, I guess I won’t make you pick it up.”

Clarke breathes a sigh of relief.

“But since you can’t finish the punishment we’ll have to work something else out. And Principal Diyoza wants us to work out some strategies for class. I don’t want you falling behind, okay?” Bellamy continues. “Come to my office tomorrow before class, alright?”

Clarke nods.

“You’re free to go,” Bellamy tells her.

 

-

 

Bellamy is on hallway duty that night. They have the most bizarre system. It’s like this: they don’t have enough teachers to have someone on at all times during the night, so they have a constantly changing schedule so the girls will never know if there is a teacher on duty or not. Bellamy has no idea if it actually works, he never sees anyone in the hour he’s wandering the hallways. But for all he knows they wait for him to go to bed and then they sneak out. There are hired security guards outside the building, so Bellamy figures the girls probably won’t get too far anyway.

He’s about ten minutes from finishing his shift when he spots three girls standing in an archway, cigarettes in their hands. Bellamy says nothing, but as he gets closer, he realises one of them is Clarke.

He uses his deepest, most intimidating teacher voice. “Clarke Griffin,” he says.

“What the fuck?” one of the girls says, dropping her cigarette. “You said there wouldn’t be any teachers!”

The other girl hurriedly drops her cigarette as well, and both of them stamp them out. The two of them run off towards their rooms without so much as a glance at Clarke. Bellamy doesn’t even bother to try and make a note of who they are. He’s focused on Clarke. She doesn’t look surprised to see him.

His eyes rake over her as he approaches. She’s dressed in a tiny slip of what is probably very expensive lingerie, an enormous amount of creamy white skin on display. It’s so thin she may as well be wearing nothing at all. Her nipples poke through the silky fabric, and the neckline dips so low that the top of her areolas are visible. The hem of the nightgown only just covers her pussy. She looks so goddamn fucking sexy, he wants to take her right there. Bend her over and shove his cock inside her. Pussy or ass, it wouldn’t matter. She’d love it either way.

She leans against the archway, cigarette in her hand. It’s not even lit.

“Give me that, Clarke,” Bellamy says, holding out his hand. Clarke hands it over silently. “Some friends they are,” Bellamy notes.

Clarke shrugs. “They’re not my friends.”

“You know I’ll have to punish you for this.”

Clarke shivers. Bellamy’s eyes drop to her tits and then he quickly meets her eyes again. “What are you going to do?” Clarke challenges. “Spank me?” Her eyes flash. It’s a challenge, sure. But he can hear it in her voice. She wants to be spanked. Has probably wanted it since the first time he did it. That’s why she was acting so weird when he wouldn’t punish her.

“I could,” Bellamy muses. “But my shift is nearly over. Maybe I should leave you for the next teacher. Mr Wallace.”

It’s a lie, but she doesn’t need to know that. Dante Wallace is the art teacher, and Clarke is his star student.

“Mr Wallace?” Clarke repeats, her eyes wide.

“How do you think he’d react to seeing his favourite student smoking in the hallways in the middle of the night, dressed like a slut?”

Clarke shakes her head, her face reddening. “I’d rather you punish me, Mr Blake,” she says.

“Beg me.”

Clarke only hesitates a moment. “Please, Mr Blake. Punish me. Spank me. Please don’t let Mr Wallace see me like this. I don’t want him to know I’m a slut.”

Bellamy’s cock jumps. Fuck, he was right. She wants to be spanked. Wants to be called a slut. He wonders what else she wants, what other dirty thoughts she has in hidden behind those innocent blue eyes.

He pretends to consider. “Fine. Go and wait for me in my office. Have your ass ready.”

Clarke nods, and Bellamy watches her ass cheeks peeking out from her nightgown as she heads down the hallway towards his office.

His cock is completely hard by the time his hallway duty is finished and he makes his way to his office. He opens the door, and makes eye contact with Clarke immediately. She’s got her hands on the desk, her ass in the air and her legs spread wide. The material of her nightgown has fallen away from her chest and he can see her pretty pink nipples perfectly.

Bellamy smirks. “I didn’t ask you to spread your legs, Clarke,” he says. Clarke flushes, but she doesn’t move to close them. Bellamy rounds the desk slowly and stops behind her, ready to admire her big round ass and shaved pussy on display for him. Except his view is marred by a black thong.

“I was beginning to think you didn’t own any underwear,” he says. He steps up behind her and slips a finger under the band of her thong, pulling it back and letting it snap against her skin. She flinches. “I believe you promised me you wouldn’t wear a thong again. I’m going to have to confiscate this.”

He reaches for a pair of scissors from a pencil holder on his desk, and cuts the thong off her, pulling the string from between her legs. It’s sopping wet.

He chuckles as he examines the thong. “You’re all wet, Clarke,” he says, as if he thinks it’s adorable. “Why would that be?”

“I don’t know, Mr Blake,” Clarke says nervously.

“You don’t know why your pussy is wet?”

“No, Mr Blake.”

“Hm,” Bellamy muses. “Well, I’m sure you’ll have figured it out by the time we’re done. Now, time for your punishment. Last time it was five, so I suppose we should do ten this time. Make sure you count them, or I might have to start over.”

“Yes, Mr Blake.”

His hand hovers over her ass. He hesitates. “Clarke,” he says, serious. They’re still playing the game, but the game has to have its limits. “If you need me to stop, just say.”

“Okay.”

He slaps her ass, hard. She whimpers. “One.”

“Your classmates told me they think you’re a prude,” Bellamy says. Slap. A gasp. “Why would that be?”

“Two. I don’t know, Mr Blake.”

“I don’t know either. You walk around in tiny little skirts, wearing no panties, showing your pussy to your teacher,” he shakes his head. He slaps her ass again, in the same spot. It’s already brilliantly red.

“Three.”

He switches to the other cheek. Slap.

“Four.”

“You sent me a video of yourself, fucking yourself on a dildo. Why?” Slap.

She groans. “Five.” She takes a moment to catch her breath. “I wanted to tease you.”

He gives her another slap, harder this time.

“Six.” She’s positively panting now, trying not to squirm.

“You’re a naughty girl, Clarke,” Bellamy growls. “Have you figured out why your pussy is wet yet?”

“No?” Slap. “ _Oh._ Seven.” Her voice is strained, but he can hear her arousal. Can smell it, even. Can see it dripping down her thighs.

“No? So it’s not because you like me looking at you in your tiny clothes? Knowing I can see your tits? Not because you’ve been thinking about me spanking you? Not because you’re secretly a dirty little slut?”

Slap. A moan this time, desperate. “Eight. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Slap.

“Nine. _Yes_.” She sounds like she could come from the spanking alone. Then again, so could he. His dick is hard as hell, and every little whimper, every moan, gets it throbbing harder.

“Yes what?” Bellamy presses. He holds his hand over her ass, withholding the last slap.

“Yes, I—” Clarke pants. “I like you looking at me. Thinking about you spanking me made my pussy all wet.”

“You’re not a prude at all, are you?” Bellamy asks.

“No,” Clarke shakes her head.

“What are you?”

“I’m a dirty little slut,” Clarke moans.

“I thought so.”

He spanks her one last time. And she whines desperately.

“Ten,” Bellamy says for her. He’s panting himself a little. He looks at her ass, painfully red. Fuck. He opens the top drawer of his desk, hoping for some hand lotion. It’s the best he’s got.

“Are you okay?” he asks her gruffly.

“Uh huh,” Clarke swallows. “It stings a little.”

He squirts the lotion onto his hand. “Is it okay if I rub this on? It might make it feel a little better.”

“Okay,” Clarke says. Bellamy rubs his hands together to get lotion on both of them, then gently rubs the lotion into her ass cheeks. She whimpers a little at first, but then she’s mostly quiet.

“Better?” Bellamy asks, pulling his hands away.

“Yes,” Clarke says quietly.

“You can stand up now.”

Clarke straightens and turns to face him. Her face is flushed, her pupils blown. She looks a little dazed. She still looks so fucking sexy. He wants to kiss her. Pull her onto his lap and have her ride him while he sucks on her nipples.

He swallows. “Don’t forget we have a meeting before class tomorrow. Here.”

Clarke nods. “Can I go?”

Bellamy nods. “Yes.” He watches her walk towards the door. “Clarke?” he calls after her. “Did you know I was on duty tonight?”

She hesitates. “Yes.”

He smiles a little, mostly to himself. He raises an eyebrow at her. “How?”

“Mr Wallace keeps the schedule pinned to the wall in his office.”

“Right,” Bellamy nods. She fucking knew exactly what she was doing all along. He should have guessed. “Goodnight, Clarke.”

“Goodnight, Mr Blake.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is too short and probably makes no sense sorry

As Bellamy waits for Clarke to arrive at his office the following morning, he’s resolved to put an end to this. He’d had a long hard think as he lay awake in bed last night, after rubbing his dick dry. He knows he’s let it go too far already. But if he stops it now, he still might be able to live with himself. He’ll make sure she’s okay, tell her whatever this is has to stop, and then focus on her schoolwork and her behaviour in his class.

The second she opens the office door his resolve is already fading. She’s got on stockings, instead of her usual knee-high socks, navy, to match her skirt, but sheer. There’s a good couple of centimetres between the tops of her stockings and the hem of her skirt. He stares and the strips of white skin for way too long before meeting her eyes. He tries to block out the memory of her bent over this desk only hours earlier. She shuts the door behind her.

 “Lock the door,” Bellamy says. Clarke’s eyes flash with excitement. Fuck. He’s going to have to disappoint her. She does as he asks, and Bellamy’s eyes drop back to her legs. Does he have no self-control?

“How do your other teachers let you get away with a skirt like that?” he asks, his voice coming out huskier than he intends. Clarke looks down.

“This?” she asks innocently. She looks back up at him. “This skirt is just for you, Mr Blake. I have a proper one for all my other classes.”

“Of course you do.”

“I can take it off if you’d prefer.”

He means to tell her no, to keep the skirt on. But no words come out, and Clarke must take that as a yes, because then she’s unzipping her tiny skirt and letting it fall to the floor. She’s got on a pretty garter belt attached to her stockings, in matching navy lace. The suspenders frame her bare pussy perfectly. Bellamy finds himself wishing she had heels on, instead of her buckle up T-bar sandals.

He keeps his eyes on her pussy as she walks over and seats herself on the chair across the desk from him.

“Clarke,” Bellamy says. “Last night. Are you alright?”

Clarke nods. “Yes, Mr Blake.”

“Let me see.”

Clarke stands up and turns around, showing him her ass. Not a mark on it. He’s almost disappointed.

“Okay, sit down,” he says. Clarke obeys. “And… emotionally?” He’s no psychologist, but she can’t exactly go and see the school counsellor about this. He has to make sure he hasn’t damaged her in any way.

“Tired,” she says.

“Tired? You didn’t sleep last night?”

“Not much.”

“Why?”

Clarke’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red. “I was… fingering myself, Mr Blake,” she admits.

Bellamy can’t help but smirk. “All night?”

Clarke nods, biting her lip. “I came so many times.”

“Why is it,” Bellamy asks her, “that your classmates think you’re a prude?” He never did get a straight answer from her last night.

Clarke shrugs, looking at the floor evasively.

“Tell me, Clarke,” Bellamy says, deepening the timbre of his voice. He thinks he sees her shiver.

“I guess…” she starts. “I was dating this guy a year or so ago. I wouldn’t have sex with him. And then I broke up with him, so he told everyone I wouldn’t even let him touch me. I think he thought if he couldn’t have me, then he didn’t want anyone else to. He told everyone not to bother with me because I was an uptight prude. I guess word got around.”

“And no one bothered with you again?”

“No guys.”

“A girl?”

Clarke nods. “But she hates me now. I wasn’t ready to come out and she tried to pressure me. So we broke up.”

“Are you a virgin, Clarke?” Bellamy asks. Clarke blushes. She’s sitting there with her shaved cunt on display and she’s fucking blushing about being asked if she’s a virgin. She shakes her head. Bellamy doesn’t know if he’s relieved or disappointed. Then he realises he shouldn’t be having any feelings at all on the matter. He shouldn’t even be fucking _asking_. So much for putting a stop to this.

He shakes his head. “Enough,” he clears his throat, trying to get this meeting back on track. Yet he still doesn’t tell her to put her skirt back on. “That’s not what this meeting is about.”

“What is this meeting about, Mr Blake?” Clarke asks.

Bellamy folds his hands, leaning forward. “You know what it’s about. Working out strategies so you don’t disrupt my class all the time. Principal Diyoza and I thought it would be best if you and I had a talk.”

Clarke crosses her legs and slouches back in the chair, sulky. “I don’t see why. You’ve never bothered to talk with me before.”

Bellamy realises she’s right. He feels like an idiot. Why has he never bothered to talk to her about her behaviour before? At his old school, and even with other girls at this school, that’s his first step. Talk to them and find out about their home life, or school life or social life, to see if there are any issues that might be causing them to act out. And he’d never bothered with Clarke. Always sent her away so he didn’t have to deal with her. So he wouldn’t have to be alone with her. It’s possible he’s been attracted to her for a lot longer than he’d care to admit, and he’s let it get in the way of actually teaching her.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says. Clarke looks surprised. “I guess I let my… frustration get in the way of being a good teacher.”

Clarke sits up again and Bellamy locks eyes with her.

“So what is it?” he asks. “Why do you act up in my class but not any of the other teachers?”

Clarke shifts in her seat, avoiding his gaze. She shrugs.

“Clarke?” he presses.

“You really want to know?” she screws up her nose.

“Of course.”

“It’s because I can’t concentrate in your class. If I annoy you, you’ll send me to Principal Diyoza and I can do my work without getting distracted.”

“Distracted by what?”

Clarke flushes, her face turning bright red. The same colour as her ass cheeks last night, after he’d spanked her right here in this room. His cock twitches.

“You,” she admits.

Bellamy swallows. He wants to ask her what it is about him that she finds so distracting. Wants her to tell him what goes through her mind when she’s in his class.

“Clarke,” he says, deep and firm. Clarke shivers. “This has to stop.”

“What has to stop?”

“This!” He gestures between them. “I’m your teacher. You shouldn’t be taking off your clothes in front of me. I shouldn’t be looking at your naked pussy.”

“So stop looking.”

“Clarke,” he groans. God, she is going to be the death of him. “What we need to do is focus on how you can start concentrating in class. Since punishment doesn’t seem to work on you—"

“Reward me instead,” Clarke interrupts.

“Reward you for bad behaviour?” Bellamy raises an eyebrow.

“Reward me for _good_ behaviour.”

Bellamy isn’t sure he should ask the next question. But he does anyway. “And how would you like to be rewarded?”

Clarke chews her lip. She uncrosses her legs and spreads them wide, showing him her glistening pussy. “With orgasms.”

“No, Clarke,” Bellamy says instinctively. He’s proud of himself that his instinct is no. Even though a moment later he’s already wanting to change his mind.

Clarke pouts. “Why?”

Because up until now his only crimes are looking at her and thinking about her. Other than the spanking, which is technically allowed by the school, he hasn’t touched her. Except for rubbing her ass with lotion last night, he remembers. But that’s beside the point. He can’t make her come, even though he desperately wants to. That’s way over the line.

“I could get fired,” he says.

“No one has to know.”

Bellamy shakes his head, not trusting himself to be able to say the word no again.

“Please, Mr Blake,” Clarke begs him. “I’ll be so good, I swear.”

God, he almost gives in. He loves hearing her beg. He remains silent, tight lipped.

“If you won’t make me come, then I’ll have to do it myself,” Clarke says.

“Show me,” Bellamy blurts out, before he can stop himself. Clarke meets his gaze, surprised. “Show me how you touch yourself, Clarke.”

Clarke bites her bottom lip before sliding her hand between her legs. She trails her fingers along her slit, gathering wetness on her fingers. Bellamy watches every movement like a hawk, his heart pounding, his cock straining against his fly.

Clarke lets her fingers circle her clit, and she gives a small whine.

“If you want to come before the bell, you’ll have to make it quick,” Bellamy tells her.

Clarke nods, quickening her movements. She closes her eyes and rubs her clit, faster and faster. She squeezes a tit with her other hand and Bellamy’s eyes flick to her chest, rising and falling heavily as she gets closer to orgasm. She’s pretty quiet as she plays with herself, but then she gives a small moan and Bellamy figures she must be close.

“Stop,” he says. Clarke’s eyes snap open and her hand stills. She looks at him questioningly. “That’s enough,” he tells her. “The bell is about to go.”

Clarke removes her hand from between her legs, shaking. Her fingers are covered in her own juices. Bellamy stands up and rounds the desk, heading towards the door. He jerks his head, gesturing for her to follow. Clarke stands up and follows him to the door.

Bellamy drops to his knees, picking up her skirt. Her pussy, dripping with arousal, inches from his face. The smell of her is tantalising.

“Step in,” he commands, and Clarke puts one leg after the other into her skirt. Bellamy pulls it up over her thighs, tucking her shirt in and doing up the zipper firmly. He slides his hands over her ass to smooth the skirt down.

“Mr Blake?” Clarke asks.

“Yes, Clarke?”

“Will you think about it?”

Bellamy studies her. He nods. “I’ll think about nothing else,” he tells her. He grabs her wrist, bringing her sticky fingers up to his face. He studies them for a moment before sucking the two fingers into his mouth, watching Clarke’s eyes widen and her mouth fall open. She swallows, and Bellamy lets her hand go.

Fuck, is he really going to deny himself the taste of her on his tongue, when he knows she tastes like _that_?

“How do I taste, Mr Blake?”

“Fucking incredible,” he growls. He wants to taste her come. He wants _her_ to taste her own come. The bell rings, and Bellamy unlocks the door. “I’ll see you in class, Clarke. Be on your best behaviour.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh sorry it took me so long, don't hate me

It’s a miracle Bellamy manages to make it through class. He loses his train of thought too many times to count, mostly because he’s not really thinking about history at all. All he’s thinking about is Clarke, asking him to make her come. The taste of her pussy.

She’s a model student all class, doing her work quietly, not putting a foot out of order. He avoids looking at her as much as he can.

He’d put on a show for her earlier, trying to seem like he has any semblance of decorum left. But he’d known as soon as she asked that he would give in. He needs to touch her, to taste her, to be the one to make her come.

After class, he makes her wait behind. She approaches his desk hesitantly.

“Well, Mr Blake? Was I well behaved?”

Bellamy leans forward, elbows on the desk. “You were,” he says.

“Do I get a reward?”

“Hmm,” Bellamy considers. He takes her hand and leads her around the desk, pushing back his chair so she can stand in front of him, her backside leaning against the desk. Bellamy doesn’t break eye contact as his hands slither up the outside of her thighs and under her skirt. Clarke bites her lip, flushing. Bellamy pushes her skirt up. “Hold it,” he tells her, and Clarke clutches the hem of her skirt in her hands tightly, giving Bellamy an unrestricted view of her pussy. He leans in and breathes in the sweet scent of her.

“Beautiful,” he tells her, pulling away, and Clarke blushes again. “But I don’t think you get a reward today.”

Clarke’s mouth drops open. “Why?” she whines.

Bellamy holds back a smirk. “This skirt is much shorter than regulation length. I expect you to be in full uniform when you’re in my class.”

Clarke pouts, but she nods. Bellamy pulls her skirt from her grasp and lets it fall back down.

“I want you to meet me in my office after school each day, and I will decide whether you deserve a reward or a punishment.”

“Okay,” Clarke says, breathless. Her pupils are blown and her cheeks are pink. It’s like she can hardly believe she’s getting what she wants.

Bellamy continues. “You’re not to touch yourself, or let anyone else touch you. The only time you’re allowed to come is when I say so. Understand?”

“I understand,” Clarke nods.

“Good girl,” Bellamy says. Clarke reacts to the words with a tiny shiver. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Clarke.”  

 

-

 

Bellamy hardly sleeps that night. Not from guilt or shame, he’s past that now. He’s got a hundred reasons justifying why what he’s doing is okay. It’s for her, not him. As long as his dick isn’t involved it’s fine. It’s the only way he can get her to behave in class. And the weakest of all: she’s eighteen, what does it matter?

So with all his reasons, he doesn’t have to hate himself into insomnia. The real reason he’s awake is excitement. His skin is buzzing, and his stomach churns in anticipation every time he thinks about putting his hands on her. He wonders if she’s feeling the same way.

He's on edge as he makes his way to his class with Clarke. He sits at his desk, fiddling with a pen as his students file into class. Clarke locks eyes with him as she enters the room with the other students. On time. His eyes flick down her body. Knee length skirt, shirt buttoned properly. She’s in perfect uniform. She takes a seat at the back of the room, and Bellamy begins the lesson.

She’s on her best behaviour, of course. She has something she wants, and she’s desperate to get it. She sits at the back of class and listens intently, and then does her work quietly. She even finishes before everyone else. She doesn’t even say a thing all lesson, except when the bell goes as she passes his desk.

“I’ll see you after school, Mr Blake,” she says sweetly, and then she’s gone.

If there is one thing Bellamy is getting good at, it’s pretending he’s not thinking about her. Mostly because it’s pretty much all he does lately, and he has other classes to teach, other students to worry about.

But then class is over, and he has to restrain himself from racing to his office. He turns the handle and opens the door. Clarke turns from the seat in front of his desk. Bellamy steps inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

He says nothing as he crosses the distance between the door and his desk, and Clarke doesn’t either. He puts his things to one side and takes a seat across from Clarke. Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap, and if it weren’t for the whiteness of her knuckles, he might think she was totally calm.

“I see you wore the correct uniform today,” Bellamy notes.

Clarke nods. “Yes, Mr Blake.”

He tilts his head. “Come here,” he says. Clarke stands eagerly and rounds the desk, as Bellamy reaches for a ruler. Clarke frowns in confusion. Bellamy holds the ruler against her thigh. “One centimetre above the knee is the rule, I believe?” he says, looking up at her. Clarke nods. Bellamy reverts his eyes back to the ruler. “Close enough.”

He puts the ruler away, then reaches for the zipper on her skirt. He glances up at her, silently asking if this is still what she wants. Clarke nods, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Bellamy undoes the zip and pulls her skirt down her thighs, letting it pool at her feet. She steps out of it daintily.

In a strange turn of events, she’s wearing panties. Not even a thong. Just plain white cotton panties. Somehow Bellamy finds that even sexier than her going without.

“You said full uniform,” Clarke says. “That includes panties.” Seems like she didn’t want to take any chances of not getting her reward.

“I did say that. And you’re right. But you don’t need them anymore, do you?”

Clarke shakes her head. Bellamy hooks his fingers into her waistband and drags her panties down to her knees.

He tugs on the hem of her shirt. “You can take this off too.”

Clarke hastens to undo her shirt, fumbling with the buttons, her hands shaking. Once all the buttons are undone, she shrugs it off and tosses it aside. Bellamy stares at her luscious tits, encased in a plain white bra. It occurs to him that he hasn’t actually seen them in real life. Only in the video she sent.

“That too.”

Clarke reaches around and unclasps the bra, and then she’s totally naked, save for her knee-high socks and the panties around her knees.

Bellamy’s cock strains against his fly as he takes her in. Those perfect tits, full and heavy, just begging to be touched. He brings a hand to her hip, then skirts his fingers up her side, coming to rest under her right breast. He traces his thumb along the soft flesh, then up to her nipple, circling the hardened bud with the pad of his thumb.

“You were a very good girl today, Clarke,” he tells her, stroking her nipple. He drops his hand to her thigh, and Clarke leans back against the desk. His thumb now brushes her inner thigh, slowly getting higher. Clarke spreads her legs a little wider. “Do you think you deserve a reward?”

His hand reaches the crease between her thigh and her pussy, and he pauses, waiting for her response. She trembles under his touch, desperate for what comes next.

“Yes.” Her voice comes out breathless, strained.

Bellamy moves his hand, only slightly, so his fingers press against her outer lips. Then he slips a finger into her slit, and she releases a tiny whimper. She’s deliciously wet. He wants to put his mouth on her, but he thinks that’s what she wants too, and he’s not going to give it to her yet. Instead, he lets his index finger trace her slit, slowly. He finds her clit and circles it with his thumb, and she jerks her hips towards him as he presses his thumb against it gently, just for a moment.

“You’re very sensitive, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He doesn’t mean for the term of endearment to slip out, but it seems as if she likes it anyway.

“Yes, Mr Blake.”

“How does this feel?” he asks her, softly rubbing her clit. Clarke whines. “Do you like that?”

“Uh huh,” Clarke nods. Her face is flushed, her eyes closed.

“Of course you do,” Bellamy murmurs. He crooks a finger inside her then, and she gasps. He can’t get enough of her reactions. His cock throbs, and he knows it’s going to be another night of frantic jerking off. But for now, he remains calm and collected. He’s the one in control here.

He inserts another finger inside her, slowly pumping them into her tight pussy. God, he wants to put his cock inside her. She’d let him, he knows that. He could pull her onto his lap right now, pull his dick out, and she’d ride him hard, until he filled her with his come, and then beg him for more.

But that’s never going to happen. That’s not what this is. He isn’t allowed to get any satisfaction from this. At least, not in that way. But he’s fucking enjoying himself right now anyway, fingering her pretty little pussy while she moans above him.

He moves his fingers faster now, getting her closer and closer to orgasm. Her face is contorted, her mouth open, panting, feeling her orgasm build. And then he stops. She whines as he removes his fingers, wiping her juices on his pant leg.

Clarke opens her eyes, those baby blues staring at him, hurt and questioning.

“Every other teacher tells me you’re an active participant in class. Some even say a know-it-all,” Bellamy says.

“Mr Blake?” Clarke asks, not sure what he’s getting at.

“You’re very well behaved, but I can’t be sure you’re learning unless you engage in class discussion. I know you want to show all the other girls how smart you are.”

“So…” she trails off. She wants to know if he’s going to let her come.

“You don’t get to come today, Clarke.” Bellamy shakes his head. “We’ll see how you go tomorrow.”

Clarke’s bottom lip trembles. She looks like she might cry. God, he feels like such a bastard. She wants to come so bad. But it’s more fun this way. He wants her to know he’s in control now. And if he has to tease her until she goes insane, so be it.

He pulls her panties back up and pats her on the ass. He watches her as she picks up the rest of her clothes and puts them back on, still looking like a sullen child.

“See you tomorrow, Clarke,” he says, indifferent, like he had just had his fingers inside her only moments earlier. Inside, he feels anything but indifferent. His heart pounds, and his cock is hard as hell. His balls feel like they’re about to explode. He doesn’t know if he can make it back to his room. He might have to get himself off right here.

Clarke unlocks the door. “Yes, Mr Blake,” she says. “See you tomorrow.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here have my garbage

Today’s the day. The day he’s finally going to make her come. Provided she follows all his rules and behaves herself in class. Bellamy knows she will, she wants it too much to sabotage herself now.

He’d spent last night day dreaming about how he’s going to do it. With his fingers or his tongue? Take his time or just go for it? He still hasn’t decided.

Clarke makes eye contact with him when she enters the class, and he gives her a sharp nod. He can feel the electricity between them.

He gives the class a short lecture to begin, and each time he poses a question, Clarke is the first with her hand up. He tries not to let the rest of the class know how pleased he is, but he’s not convinced he’s doing a great job. At least the other students have no idea _why_ he’s so happy that Clarke is finally behaving and participating in class. Sure, it’s nice to have his class go without disruption, but truthfully, it’s more about the fact that he’s not sure he could bear it if he had to go another day without tasting her come.

When classes are finally done for the day, he returns to his office as quickly as he can. He beats Clarke there this time, but only by a minute. She steps inside and locks the door without being asked to.

“Where do you want me?” she asks.

“On the desk,” he decides on impulse. “Panties off.”

Clarke slips her hands under her skirt and slides her panties down her legs and kicks them off, before sauntering around the desk, lifting herself onto the space that Bellamy had cleared moments earlier.

Bellamy leans forward in his chair and lifts her skirt.  Clarke opens her legs slightly, and he can see the glistening wetness already gathered there. Clarke trembles as Bellamy runs his finger along her pink slit, then puts his finger into his mouth, sucking her juices off.

“Mr Blake?” Clarke says, her voice shaking. He’s barely even touched her and she already sounds like she’s on the verge of orgasm.

“Yes, Clarke?”

“Do I get to come today?”

“Well…” Bellamy says. He smirks up at her, drawing it out, just to torture her a little longer. “You did do everything I asked. And you’ve been such a good girl lately.” Clarke barely suppresses a whimper. “So, yes, I do think you deserve to come today. But not until I say so, okay?”

Clarke nods eagerly, shuffling closer to him.

He decides he’s going to do it with his fingers today. He wants to go down on her so badly, but he knows there will be plenty of opportunities for that. He stands up and reaches around her to unzip her skirt, lifting her slightly so he can pull it to the floor. Then he unbuttons her shirt, discarding that as well, and lastly removes her bra, so she’s naked before him. That’s how he likes her best.

“Such pretty tits, Clarke,” he coos, rubbing a thumb over her nipple. “Do you like having your tits played with?”

“Yes, Mr Blake.”

He drops his hand between her legs, cupping her pussy, feeling her juices leak onto his hand.

“So wet all the time. You really are desperate for it, aren’t you?”

Clarke nods, a blush covering her cheeks. “Please,” she begs him.

“Alright, sweetheart, since you asked so nicely,” Bellamy murmurs, pressing his lips to her ear. He wraps one arm around her and pulls her in close, crushing her exposed tits against his chest. He can feel her breathing heavily already. He holds her steady with one arm while he uses the other hand to slip a finger inside her.

He starts off slow, gently pumping his finger inside her, revelling in the little sounds she makes. He inserts another finger and her breath hitches. He loves how tight she is, how her pussy clenches around his fingers.

He quickens his pace now, and Clarke’s head is pressed against his shoulder, whining and panting as she nears her peak.

“ _Please_ ,” she says, her voice ragged. “I need to come, I need—” she cuts herself off with a gasp as Bellamy’s thumb finds her clit.

“I’m going to let you come real soon,” he promises.

There’s a sharp knock at the door, and Bellamy pulls away abruptly. Clarke whines, tears already forming in her eyes.

“Bellamy!” Diana’s voice comes through the door.

“Just a minute!” he calls. “I’m with a student.”

“Don’t forget we have a staff meeting!” Diana yells. Bellamy groans. Fuck. He’d forgotten. What kind of masochist schedules a staff meeting for a Friday afternoon? He glances at the time on the clock on his desk. The meeting starts in three minutes. He could finish with Clarke but he’d be late for the meeting.

“Thanks, Diana!” he calls back. “Get dressed,” he whispers to Clarke.

“But—” she whimpers, her bottom lip trembling. “But you said I could come.”

“You’ll have to wait until Monday,” he tells her.

“I can’t,” she says. “I need it so bad, please Mr Blake.”

“Clarke,” he says firmly. “You will wait until Monday, understand me?”

Clarke pouts, but she nods, picking up her clothes sullenly and getting dressed. Bellamy ushers her out the door with a pat on the ass before giving himself a few moments to collect himself. His cock and balls feel like they’re about to burst. He seriously needs to find a way to get himself off soon, or else he’ll break and end up fucking Clarke. And that’s not part of the deal.

 

-

 

He would normally stay at school over the weekend, after going home last weekend. But he has the worst case of blue balls of his life, and he can’t resist the possibility of Bree being open to another fucking.

Bree is only too eager when he calls her on Saturday night, and Bellamy finally gets some much-needed relief. He doesn’t even call her Clarke this time, though he’s imagining it’s Clarke beneath him as he drives his cock into her.

But come Monday, Bellamy is already feeling like it’s been months since he last had sex. Thoughts of Clarke consume him, and he can’t wait to finally make her come.

He doesn’t see her until class, and as soon as she walks in the room every nerve in his body makes him aware of just how much he wants her. She locks eyes with him and his cock twitches. She’s not even doing or wearing anything sexy. Just her presence gets him turned on. She averts her eyes, casting them towards the floor and hurrying to the back of the room.

The class stretches on and on, and then finally it’s over, and Bellamy hurries to his office to wait for Clarke. He hadn’t spoken to her all class, hadn’t called on her once, hadn’t even barely looked at her. But he knows she knows what’s going to happen when she arrives at his office after school.

When she opens the door to his office, he’s expecting her to seem… excited. He wants to see that flash of desire in her eyes, her seductive smirk as she takes her clothes off for him. Instead, she keeps her eyes downcast as she closes and locks the door, like she’s nervous, or afraid. She twists her fingers together, a sure sign of her anxiety, and Bellamy feels a rush of guilt. Maybe she doesn’t want this after all. Maybe it’s all been in his head, and he’s forcing this girl to do things she doesn’t want to do. His stomach churns.

“Clarke,” he says, his voice laced with concern. She looks up at him. “Are you alright?”

She nods, but it’s unconvincing.

“We don’t have to do this,” Bellamy assures her. “If this isn’t what you want, you can walk away right now and we’ll never speak of it again. I’m sorry if I—”

“It’s not that,” Clarke cuts him off.

Bellamy tilts his head, feeling a little less awful, but still a little confused. “Then what?”

“Don’t be mad.”

Bellamy straightens in his seat. He’s beginning to realise it’s not something _he’s_ done, but something _she’s_ done. “Clarke,” he says, the timbre of his voice deepening. He sees her shiver. “What did you do?”

Clarke swallows. “When you were gone over the weekend, I—I couldn’t help it.” She’s blushing profusely, and it’s clear she’s ashamed of what she’s about to admit. “I touched myself. I made myself come.”

Bellamy frowns. His dick is throbbing at the thought of her being so desperate that she had to get herself off without him, even though he explicitly told her not to. But she disobeyed him, and now she has to be punished. But how to do it?

“Take your clothes off,” he tells her flippantly.

“Mr Blake?”

“Take them off. Disobeying me further will only result in more punishment. Is that what you want?” he growls. Clarke shakes her head, and begins undoing the buttons on her shirt. Bellamy watches from his chair, his cock already pressing hard against his fly. He keeps his face as expressionless as possible.

The truth is, he doesn’t really care that much that she touched herself without his permission. He’s more annoyed about the fact that she _told_ him, and now he has to punish her instead of rewarding her. And it’s not that he doesn’t like punishing her, because he really, really does. But he’s also desperate to taste her come.

The last of her clothes fall to the floor, and she’s naked before him, somehow looking more innocent and vulnerable that he’s seen her before.

“Now,” Bellamy drawls. “Your punishment.”

“Are you going to spank me again, Mr Blake?” Clarke whispers.

Bellamy considers. “Yes, I think I am. Come here, and sit on the desk.”

Clarke rounds the desk and perches her bare ass on the edge of his desk, though she wears an expression of confusion. Bellamy rolls his chair closer to her.

“Feet up,” he says, patting the arms of the chair with his hands. Clarke obeys, spreading her legs apart, one foot on either side of him, her pussy wet and open in front of him. Bellamy drags his gaze from her glistening cunt to her beet red face.

“You’re all wet, Clarke,” he notes. “Are you going to enjoy your punishment?”

“No, Mr Blake,” Clarke lies.

“I think you are. Now, why don’t you remind me why you’re being punished?”

“I disobeyed you.”

“You disobeyed me,” Bellamy agrees. “I told you not to touch yourself, but you just couldn’t help yourself.”

“Please, Mr Blake, it wasn’t my fault. I was so horny, and then you said I could come on Friday but I never got to, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. My pussy ached so bad. I _had_ to.”

“You know why that is, Clarke?”

“Why, Mr Blake?”

“Because you’re a slut, Clarke. A naughty little slut. Aren’t you?”

Clarke’s breath hitches. She nods. “Yes, Mr Blake. I’m a slut. I deserve to be punished.”

“That’s right,” Bellamy says. He drops his eyes back to her pussy. It takes all his self-control not to lean forward and put his mouth on her. Instead he places his hand flat against her mound. Clarke bites her lip.

“You’re going to spank my pussy?”

Bellamy nods. He can feel her wet lips beneath his hand. “Just five,” he says. “For your first offence.”

“Okay,” Clarke breathes.

Bellamy pulls his hand away and lets it hover between her legs. Clarke tenses, waiting for the blow. Bellamy brings his hand down hard. The sound of the slap, and Clarke’s answering moan, echo through the room.

“One,” Bellamy says. He’ll do the counting for her this time. He plants another stinging slap between her legs, and she merely gasps this time, as if she’s trying to hide how much she’s enjoying it. On the third slap she moans again, her head rolling back. Her skin is a brilliant red where his hand falls, her pussy lips full and swollen, juices leaking out of her. She practically squeals on the fourth slap, and Bellamy is almost worried someone might hear. He delivers the last slap and Clarke whines, screwing her face up. Her chest rises and falls dramatically as she tries to compose herself. Her fingers grip the edge of the desk tightly, her knuckles white.

“How does it feel?” Bellamy asks.

“It stings,” Clarke swallows.

“Of course it does,” he says. He stares at her enflamed pussy, and he can’t hold himself back any longer. “Let me make it feel better.”

He leans in, pressing his lips softly against the red skin above her slit. He scoots his chair further forward and lifts her legs over his shoulders. He leaves a trail of kisses down her lips until he reaches her ass.  He slips his tongue into her slit, letting her juices cover his tastebuds. The scent and taste of her is intoxicating. He moans against her and she moans in return. The sound spurs him on, and he licks into her, teasing her entrance. He runs his tongue along her slit slowly. She whines as he circles her clit with his tongue.

“Mr Blake,” she pants in ecstasy.

Bellamy lifts his head for a moment, meeting her eyes. “Bellamy,” he tells her. “Call me Bellamy.”

“Okay,” Clarke nods. “Bell— _ah_ ,” she’s cut off by her own moan as Bellamy sucks on her clit. He backs off a little, circling her clit again, then dragging his tongue back down her slit to her entrance. He kisses her, then drives his tongue into her, as deep as he can go.

He can feel her thighs trembling, the sounds she’s making are strained and pathetic, and he realises she’s trying to desperately hold off her orgasm. The thought sends blood rushing to his groin, and his already hard cock becomes even more painful. His balls feel like they’re about to explode.

Bellamy moves his mouth to her clit again, licking and sucking, Clarke whimpering uncontrollably. He lifts his head again. “You can come whenever you’re ready, sweetheart,” he tells her. Clarke nods in relief. It only takes another second of his tongue on her clit for her to come apart. She lets out a wrecked moan, her hips grinding against his face, liquid squirting out of her and onto his tongue. Fuck. _Fuck_. She tastes better than he even imagined. He loves the way she sounds when she comes.

He wants her to taste herself too, and before he can even think about what he’s doing, he sits up, her come on his tongue, and drags her mouth to his, pushing his tongue into her mouth, before her orgasm has even subsided. Clarke kisses him back, hungry for him.

“You taste amazing,” he groans into her mouth.

“I know,” she gasps.

Bellamy breaks the kiss, but keeps his forehead pressed against hers. “Clarke,” he murmurs. His cock aches. He desperately needs relief. He wants to push his cock into her pussy and fuck her hard, fill her with his come.

“You can fuck me if you want,” Clarke tells him, as if reading his mind. “Bellamy.” She says his name like she’s trying it on for the first time, deciding how she likes it rolling off her tongue.

Bellamy shakes his head, pulling away before he can kiss her again. He shouldn’t have even kissed her the first time. He doesn’t want to make her think this is something it’s not.

“Please,” Clarke says. “I want you to fuck me.”

“No, Clarke. You got your orgasm. You can go now.”

Clarke pouts. “But—”

“Go!” Bellamy snaps. He shouldn’t be taking his sexual frustration out on her, but he can’t help it. Clarke scowls, but she gets off the desk and puts her clothes back on.

“Bellamy?” she asks, turning back with her hand on the door handle. “Do I come back tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

Clarke smiles, relieved. “Okay. Thank you.”

“And Clarke?” Bellamy says. “I’m still Mr Blake in class. Understand?”

“I understand, Mr Blake.”


	8. Chapter 8

Since he’d spent so much time with Clarke after school yesterday, and then thinking about her all night, Bellamy ends up having to catch up on marking and planning during his lunch. It’s fine with him, he kind of prefers to eat in his office over the dining hall anyway. He’s working on his lesson plans for next week when someone knocks on his door.

“Come in,” he calls absently, not looking up from his laptop. The door opens and closes, and when the intruder doesn’t speak, Bellamy finally looks up. “Clarke,” he says, surprised. Not an unpleasant surprise, but she’s usually only in his office after school. They haven’t even had class yet today.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “Do you need something?” He means help with schoolwork or something, but he can’t blame her for blushing.

She shakes her head. “Can I just… sit in here? I won’t distract you or anything. I’m just going to eat my lunch and maybe do some homework.”

Bellamy tilts his head. He shouldn’t really say yes. The students are supposed to eat lunch in the dining hall or outside. “Why?”

Clarke shrugs. “The other girls—”

“What have they done?” Bellamy growls, immediately turning protective. “Do you need me to speak with them?”

“No!” Clarke shakes her head. “They haven’t done anything really. They just don’t want to sit with me or talk to me, and I’m sick of sitting alone.”

“I can talk to them.”

“You can’t force them to be my friends,” Clarke rolls her eyes. “I don’t even _want_ to be friends with them. Plus, they’ll probably wonder why you suddenly like me so much. They might guess it’s because I let you touch my pussy.”

Bellamy gives a deep chuckle. “Let me? Clarke, you begged me to touch your pussy. There’s a difference.”

Clarke turns scarlet, but she doesn’t try to refute him. There’s nothing to refute.

“They won’t guess, Clarke,” Bellamy assures her. “But if you don’t want me to do anything, I won’t.”

Clarke nods. “So can I sit in here?”

Bellamy sighs. “Okay,” he agrees. “But just this once, alright?”

Clarke nods, and eagerly seats herself in the chair across from him, setting her books and lunch down on the desk. True to her word, she just eats her lunch and then does a little bit of homework. That doesn’t mean she isn’t distracting though. Bellamy can’t help but glance at her continuously. He finds herself staring at her mouth as she sucks on a strawberry, imagining those lips wrapped around his cock. Knowing her, she could be doing it on purpose, but she gives no indication she’s even aware he’s watching her. When the bell goes, she skips off to class, leaving Bellamy to deal with his unwanted erection yet again.

 

-

 

Their after-school sessions continue, and Bellamy lets her come every time. Sometimes he teases her, makes her beg him for it. Other times he refuses to let up, and makes her come three or four times in an hour. Always with his fingers or his mouth, though she begs him for his cock a few times. He doesn’t make the mistake of kissing her again either.

What’s more surprising, is that, despite his assertion that her lunch time visit was a one-time thing, she returns each day. And he lets her. He only has so much self-control when it comes to this girl, and it’s pretty much all used up on not fucking her. He does still manage to get _some_ work done, but she’s so goddamn distracting that he has to keep dragging his eyes away from her and back to his work. He’ll watch her eyelashes as she reads, her mouth as she eats, her fingers while she writes. She’s mesmerising.

He’s not surprised when she lets herself into his office again on Friday at lunch. She sits across from him in silence, but she doesn’t immediately get out her lunch or her homework like she usually does. He can feel her watching him as he pretends to continue to work. He finally looks up at her.

“Yes, Clarke?”

“My mom is picking me up right after school,” Clarke tells him. “So I won’t be able to… come.”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “Is that right? What a shame.” He doesn’t let his disappointment show. He goes back to typing random words on his laptop. Clarke slumps her shoulders in defeat, and reluctantly gets a biology textbook out of her bag. Bellamy lets her read for a minute before he speaks again.

“Why don’t you come and read that in my lap?” he suggests. Clarke meets his eyes, looking hopeful. He nods, letting her know he’s serious. Clarke gets up and rounds the desk. Bellamy leans back so she can settle herself on his lap. The feel of her ass against his thigh, even through their clothes, has his cock hard. He wraps an arm around her, holding her steady against him, then scoots closer to the desk so she can lean the text book on it as she reads. He goes back to lesson planning, though he’s not focused on it at all now.

Bellamy loosens his grip around Clarke’s waist, and he lets his fingers trail along her thigh, only just grazing the bare skin above where her hem falls. Clarke continues to read. Or pretend to read. He’s sure she isn’t concentrating on her text book now. He fingers trail higher, reaching the apex of her thighs. Clarke spreads her legs, only slightly. Enough for him to press his fingers against her silky panties. He strokes her there with one finger, then lazily traces circles across the outside of her panties. Other than her change in breathing, Clarke gives no indication that she’s even noticed he’s touching her. That, and her panties are getting damper by the second.

He continues to tease her like this until she’s squirming in his lap.

“Bellamy,” she whines. He fucking loves it when she uses his name.

“Yes, Clarke?”

“Stop teasing, please,” she says. Bellamy pulls his hand away.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he replies. Clarke huffs. Stopping entirely is clearly not what she had in mind.

“Bell,” she whines again, rocking against his thigh impatiently.

“What do you want?”

She grabs his hand and pulls it back between her legs, pulling her skirt up to her waist so he can see her panties over her shoulder, a very obvious wet patch on the white silk.

“What do you want?” he whispers again, pressing his lips to her ear.

“Finger me,” Clarke says. “Please.”

“And what have you done to deserve it?”

“I’ve been so good, haven’t I, Mr Blake?” she pleads. “I promise I’ll be good in class this afternoon. I can’t go the whole weekend without coming. I need it, please.”

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Lean back.”

Clarke obeys, leaning back so her back is flush against him, her head rolling back onto his shoulder. Bellamy pushes her panties aside and dips his fingers into her wet folds. She sighs in relief, rolling her body against him. Bellamy would love to take his time with her, but they don’t have that long left until the end of lunch, and he does want to give her what she wants this time.

His fingers find her clit and she moans as he plays with it, circling it, rubbing it with his thumb.

“I want you inside me,” Clarke pants.

“No time, sweetheart,” Bellamy tells her. “It’s faster this way.”

“Not your fingers,” Clarke shakes her head. “Your cock. I’d come so fast if you put your cock in me.”

“Sorry, baby, not happening,” Bellamy tells her. Clarke groans in frustration, but it turns into a moan of pleasure as Bellamy rubs her clit a little faster. She becomes an incoherent mess as she gets closer to climax, and then she’s tumbling over the edge, and he can tell that it’s not the best orgasm he’s given her, but it will have to do.

He pulls his fingers from her clit and straightens her panties, leaving them to just get more drenched from all the juices she’s currently leaking. Clarke shifts in his lap, pressing her ass against his crotch, his hard cock jutting into her soft skin through his pants.

“You’re so hard,” Clarke moans. “Let me suck your cock?”

“No, Clarke,” Bellamy shakes his head.

“Please,” Clarke turns her head to face him, pouting her pretty lips and batting her eyelashes. “I’ll be quick, I swear.” He’s not sure a girl has ever wanted to suck his cock so badly.  It’s a struggle to say no. But say no he does.

“Can I at least _see_ it?” Clarke presses.

“No.”

“I want to know how big you are.”

“I think you can feel how big I am, Clarke.”

“But I can’t picture it.”

“You don’t need to picture it. You aren’t allowed to touch yourself, so what do you need the image for?”

Clarke pouts. “Really? All weekend without touching myself?”

Bellamy nips at her ear affectionately. “Yes, Clarke. That’s the deal, remember? Now, the bell is about to go, so you’d better get going.”

Clarke slides off his lap like a sulky child. She collects her textbook and bag and gets to the door just as the bell goes.

“Will you be here this weekend?” Clarke asks.

“Yes,” Bellamy nods. He has a hell of a lot of work to catch up on, what with going home two weekends in a row and Clarke distracting him all week. “See you in class, Clarke,” he says. “Don’t forget you promised you’d be good.”

 

-

 

With Clarke out of the way for the weekend, Bellamy intends to actually get some work done. He has plenty of marking to do, and if that doesn’t keep him busy enough, he can start writing the next lot of tests he’s going to give out. Plus, he has to start preparing for parent teacher night.

Only, his plans change a little when he gets a call from Bree on Saturday morning.

“Hey,” he answers. He’s already in his office, though it’s only just after eight. “I’m not home this weekend,” he tells her.

“I figured,” Bree says. “I’m actually in Arkadia, visiting my sister.”

“Oh?” Bellamy’s interested is definitely piqued.

“She’s busy this afternoon. Maybe I could come by? I brought my school girl outfit with me, if you’re interested.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Okay!” Bree sounds pleased. “There won’t be any students around, will there?”

“Not really. There are a few boarders but most of them have better things to do on the weekends than hang around the halls in the afternoon.”

“I’ll see you around four then?”

“I can’t wait.”

With the promise of seeing Bree this afternoon, Bellamy breezes through his marking. She texts him when she’s out the front of the school and he goes to meet her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. It’s a little warm out for the coat she’s got on, so he assumes she already has the outfit on underneath. He takes her to his office around the back way.

Bree drops the coat as soon as the door is shut behind her. She’s got her hair braided like a school girl, and a plaid skirt that barely covers her crotch. Her white shirt is tied in a knot Britney Spears style. Bellamy stares at her for too long, so Bree takes the lead.

“Why have you called me into your office today, Sir?”

“You’ve been a very naughty girl,” Bellamy says. He tries not to cringe at the sound of his voice. But Bree doesn’t seem to think he sounds as ridiculous as he thinks he sounds.

“Are you going to punish me, Sir?”

Honestly, Bellamy isn’t a huge fan of being called _Sir_. He prefers Mr Blake. Or Bellamy. But he’s willing to go along with it if it means he gets to fuck Bree. He needs this. Needs to empty his balls into her.

“Yes,” he growls. “Come here and put your hands on the desk.”

Bree saunters over, rounding the desk to face the door. She puts her hands on the desk and sticks her ass out for him. Bellamy follows her, standing behind her. He flips her skirt up.

“No panties, Bree?”

“No, Sir.”

“You naughty little slut. You know what happens to sluts?”

“No, Sir.”

“They get fucked,” he tells her. He doesn’t know if she had been expecting a spanking. He doesn’t feel like spanking her. He just wants to get right to the fucking.

“Yes, Sir,” Bree whimpers. Bellamy slips his fingers into her slit. She’s wet, thankfully.

“Condom?” Bellamy asks her. Bree fishes around in her cleavage until she extracts a condom, handing it to Bellamy. Bellamy undoes his jeans, his hands shaking. He’s so desperate to get off, he couldn’t care less who he’s fucking. It’s just an added bonus that from behind, Bree looks more like Clarke than any other woman he’s ever fucked.

Bellamy gets the condom on and lines his cock up with Bree’s pussy. He pushes into her and she moans. She doesn’t moan like Clarke, and he finds that that annoys him. He kind of wishes she’d just be quiet.

But soon enough he loses himself of the feel of her, and he tunes her out. He closes his eyes, thrusting into her from behind, his cock desperate for release.

“ _Yes, yes, yes_!” He’s vaguely aware of Bree’s sounds of pleasure, and some part of him is glad she’s getting something out of this too. She comes, and then she goes quieter as he continues fucking her.

He can feel himself getting close and he speeds up the pace, fucking her even harder. She groans, and he wonders if she’ll come again before he finishes. He’s surprised he’s even lasted this long. Had it been Clarke, he knows he wouldn’t have.

The sound of the door opening throws Bellamy from his fantasy, and his eyes snap open, panicked. Standing there in the doorway is Clarke, her face red and her eyes wide, her mouth open in surprise.

“Fuck,” Bellamy swears, pulling his cock from Bree’s cunt and turning around quickly.

“Oh my god!” Bree exclaims, straightening. Bellamy turns his head to look at Clarke, still trying to get the condom off and get his still erect cock back into his jeans. Clarke looks back at him, hurt flashing in her eyes, before she turns and runs from the room.

“Clarke!” Bellamy calls after her. “Fuck! Fuck.” He shakes his head. He finally manages to get his cock tucked away, though it’s throbbing more painfully than ever.

“So, _that’s_ Clarke, huh?” says Bree.


	9. Chapter 9

“I’m not fucking her,” Bellamy says quickly. God, if Bree gets the wrong idea about this. If she _tells_ someone… that’s it for him. His job, his reputation. How could he have been so stupid?

Bree raises an eyebrow. “But you want to.”

Bellamy groans. “She’s eighteen,” he says. Then he realises that is definitely not the right thing to say. “Bree, I swear this isn’t as bad as it looks.” Except that it totally is. It’s probably _worse_ than it looks. Why the fuck hadn’t he locked the door?

Bree snorts. “Bellamy, I’m not an idiot. I kind of figured the first time you asked me to wear this that I was a substitute for one of your students.”

Bellamy swallows. Is he that transparent? “So…”

“So I’m not going to tell anyone your dirty little secret. You fantasise about fucking your students. As long as you’re not actually doing it, who am I to judge?” she shrugs.

“Just the one student,” Bellamy corrects. “Just her.”

“I’d say you have more to worry about with her telling someone you were fucking me in your office,” Bree muses. “She looked pretty upset. Seems like she might have a crush on you too.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy sighs. “I should probably go and check on her.” Bree nods. “Thanks. For not… making a big deal out of this.”

“I really hope you know what you’re doing, Bellamy. I’d hate to see you ruin your career over this,” Bree says. There’s no judgement in her voice, but it’s definitely a fair warning.

“Thanks,” Bellamy says again.

“I’ll see myself out,” Bree says. She puts her coat back on and leaves, while Bellamy takes off after Clarke. She could be anywhere, really, but Bellamy heads towards her dorm, thinking that’s probably the most likely option.

He knocks softly on her door, glancing around to make sure there’s no one else in the hallway. He’s not really supposed to be here, after all. It would definitely raise unwanted questions.

“Clarke,” he calls. “Are you in there?”

“Go away!” Clarke yells.

“Clarke, please. I just want to talk.” She doesn’t answer, so Bellamy turns the handle and swings the door open. She’s sitting cross legged on her bed, arms folded. She’s wearing a pretty dress, and he wonders if she put it on just for him. Her face is red and blotchy and tear streaked, though she’s not crying now. He feels awful.

“What do you want?” she scowls, as Bellamy shuts the door behind him. He feels awkward in her room, like his body knows he shouldn’t be there. But at least she hasn’t got a wall full of Justin Bieber posters or a ton of stuffed animals on her bed or something. That would be weirder. As it is, her room is fairly nondescript, she hasn’t done much to make the room her own. Even her bedspread is black and white. The only real decorations are a jewellery box and a framed photo of what he can only assume is of her younger self and her dad.  

“I’m sorry you saw that,” Bellamy says. “I didn’t realise you’d be back at school this weekend. In any case, I should’ve locked the door.”

Clarke gives him an icy look. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

“That’s not the point,” she says.

Bellamy shakes his head, lost. “Then what is the point?”

“You’ll fuck her, but you won’t fuck me. You won’t let anyone touch me except you, including myself, yet you can just have sex with whoever you want. It’s not fair.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, pained. “I can’t fuck you. You know that. And I’ll go crazy if I don’t get some relief somehow.”

“I don’t care,” Clarke pouts.

Bellamy hates that she’s mad at him. Partly because he hates to see her upset, but partly because it means he’s lost control of the situation. Although he’s beginning to wonder if he was ever actually in control in the first place.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Clarke asks, her voice trembling. She looks down at her bed, dejected. “Are you in love with her?”

Oh. He suddenly gets it. She’s jealous.

“Clarke, sweetheart,” Bellamy says softly, sitting on the edge of her bed. He doesn’t touch her, senses that she’ll only push him away if he tries. “She doesn’t mean anything to me,” he assures her. “I wanted it to be you. I was thinking of you the whole time.”

Clarke meets his eyes, hesitant. “Really?”

“Yes,” Bellamy murmurs. He reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Then why won’t you fuck me?”  

Bellamy sighs. “You’re my student.”

“But you already touch me. Make me come. You’d still be in trouble if anyone found out about that. What difference does it make?”

“It makes a difference to me,” he says. “It feels more wrong if I get any pleasure out of it.”

“You don’t get any pleasure out of it?”

Bellamy chuckles. “I didn’t mean it like that. Of course I do. I love making you come. I meant physical pleasure.”

“So you won’t ever fuck me?”

Bellamy hesitates. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Clarke screws up her nose. “I guess that makes these unnecessary then,” she says, picking up a sheet of pills from the chest of drawers beside her bed. Bellamy stares at the packet in her hand. “That’s why my mom picked me up after school, to take me to the doctor. Of course, she doesn’t know the real reason _why_ I wanted to go on the pill.”

Bellamy shakes his head, smiling. “Very proactive of you.”

“I’m still going to keep taking it. Just in case.”

“Does this mean you forgive me?”

Clarke chews her lip, considering. Then she shakes her head. “No. I’m still mad.”

Bellamy has the feeling she’s not still mad at all. She’s using this to her advantage so she can get something she wants. He’s happy to play along. “Then what can I do to make it up to you?” he asks, brushing his knuckles up and down her arm.

“Kiss me,” she breathes. He does. Slowly, softly, savouring the taste of her.

“And what else?” he whispers, pulling away.

“I don’t want you to have sex with that girl again. Or anyone else.”

“Okay,” Bellamy agrees. He’ll have to make do with his hand.

“And,” Clarke continues. “I don’t want you to touch yourself.”

Bellamy frowns. “Clarke—”

“If I’m not allowed to, you’re not allowed to.”

Bellamy hesitates, remembering the last time he tried to keep himself from masturbating. He’d ended up grinding against his mattress in the middle of the night like some kind of raging sex addict. Not that he’s going to tell Clarke that. It wasn’t exactly his finest moment.

“Okay,” he agrees anyway. “Anything else?”

“I want you to eat me out,” Clarke says. Bellamy smirks. That, he can do. “And I want you to be naked while you do it.”

Clarke watches him cautiously as he considers, like she’s knows she’s pushing her luck. He has the feeling he could say no right now and she’d still forgive him. But Clarke likes to push the boundaries, and right now she’s trying to figure out exactly where that boundary lies and how far she can push him.

Bellamy tilts his head. “Okay,” he says.

“Okay?” Clarke breathes, like she can’t quite believe he’s agreeing.

“Okay,” Bellamy nods. And to show her he’s serious, he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor. Clarke stares at him, her eyes roaming over his muscular arms, his defined torso. She bites her lip, her pupils blown.

Bellamy keeps his eyes locked with hers as he stands up, kicking off his socks and shoes. His hands drop to the button on his jeans and Clarke’s gaze follows. He undoes his fly and sheds his jeans, leaving him in his boxers that do nothing to hide his erection.

Clarke looks as if she’s holding her breath as Bellamy hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. He pauses, just for a moment. He can’t help teasing her a little. Then he drops his underwear to the ground and steps out of them, leaving him naked in front of her. He can’t help but smirk at her stunned expression, her eyes focused on his cock, standing at full attention.

“Well, sweetheart?” he says. “What do you think?”

He’s not an idiot, he knows he’s good looking. And he knows his cock is well above average size. He doesn’t need her to confirm either of these things. But he kind of wants to hear her say it anyway. It might give him the illusion that he has any power in this relationship.

Clarke swallows. “I thought about you naked so many times,” she says. “In class, when you were teaching. In bed at night when I was touching myself.”

“And do I live up to your expectations?”

Clarke nods. “I thought you were lying before,” she says. “When you said your cock was bigger than my dildo.”

“Just another reason I shouldn’t fuck you,” Bellamy points out. “Your tight little pussy wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“Would so.”

Bellamy laughs. He knows she’s right. If he fucked her, she’d take it all, and she’d love every inch of it. But he’s not thinking about that.

“I believe you wanted me to go down on you,” he muses, sinking to his knees on the bed in front of her. He fingers the hem of her dress. “Pretty dress,” he tells her. “Did you wear this for me?”

Clarke nods. Bellamy pushes the dress up her thighs, until her pussy is revealed. Bare, of course.

“No panties, Clarke?” he says, meeting her eyes.

“It’s the weekend, I can wear whatever I like.”

“You’re not in trouble,” Bellamy assures her. He can’t help himself from slipping the tip of his finger into her slit. “And you’re all wet,” he notes. “What did you think was going to happen when you came into my office this afternoon, Clarke?”

Clarke shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Come on,” Bellamy presses, teasing her with his fingers. “Tell me.”

Clarke swallows. “I was going to… sit on your lap again. Feel your cock. I wanted you to touch me everywhere. Pull my dress off so I was naked in your lap. And then I was going to beg you to fuck me until you gave in.”

Bellamy wants to retain his cool façade, despite his throbbing cock telling him it needs urgent attention, but she makes it hard when she says things like that. It drives him crazy to know she thinks like that. That she wants to be fucked by him so badly.

“I do like it when you beg,” he says, his voice a little rougher than he intended. He stops teasing her then, and pulls her dress up the rest of the way, over her head and to the floor. “And I like it when you’re naked.”

He kisses her again then, putting his hand on the back of her neck and dragging her lips to his, devouring her mouth roughly.

“Lie down,” he tells her, pulling away. Clarke shuffled down the bed eagerly, resting her head against the pile of pillows. His lips latch onto her neck, kissing and sucking while her arms wrap around him, her hands splayed over the muscles in his back.

Bellamy works his way down, taking his time to explore her impressive tits with his mouth. Then he moves down her stomach, slowly trailing his lips across her soft skin until he reaches her slit. He tongues her clit, making her whine. Her fingers curl into his hair as his tongue delves into her folds, and she moans loudly. Her sounds spur him on, and the taste of her has his cock aching. It takes all his self-control not to grind against her bed as he eats her out, just to get some friction.

“Bellamy,” Clarke pants. “I need something inside me. Please.” Apparently his tongue isn’t enough. Bellamy lifts his head, about to use his fingers instead, when he gets another idea.

“Where’s your dildo?” he asks her.

“Bottom drawer.”

Bellamy hops off the bed and opens the bottom drawer, finding the dildo in a smallish box. He gets back onto the bed and holds the dildo up to Clarke’s mouth. “Suck on it,” he commands. Clarke doesn’t question him, just takes the dildo into her mouth, covering the bright pink rubber in her saliva. She keeps her eyes locked with Bellamy the whole time. His heart is racing. He has the feeling they’re both imagining it’s his cock in her mouth.

He pulls the dildo from her mouth and positions it between her thighs. She whimpers as he pushes it into her, as deep as it will go. He gives her a moment to adjust to having it inside her, and then he starts fucking her with it. She squeezes her eyes shut and her mouth falls open, and the sounds she’s making fall in time with his thrusts. Fuck, he wishes it was his cock inside her.

“Bell,” Clarke moans. “Can I come?”

“Yes,” Bellamy tells her. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Clarke nods, and her moans become higher in pitch, so he knows she’s close. He kisses her as she comes, swallowing her moans, holding the dildo deep inside her.

“Do you forgive me now?” he murmurs, once she’s had a chance to catch her breath. Clarke nods. “Good.” He places a kiss on her jaw. “I should go,” he says, already lifting himself off the bed.

“You could stay,” Clarke says shyly.

Looking down at her, flushed and naked, her dildo still inside her, her juices coating her thighs, he’d like nothing more than to stay and make her come over and over. Or even just hold her. Which is… a dangerous thought. Which why he has to leave.

He shakes his head. “That’s really not a good idea, Clarke,” he says. Clarke nods, like she already knew what he was going to say. She watches him get dressed. Doing his jeans back up over his bulging cock is not an easy task.

“I could fix that for you,” Clarke whispers. “Let me suck your cock.”

“No, Clarke,” he sighs. She pouts, and he laughs. She’s cute when she’s annoyed.

“Goodbye, Clarke. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Not tomorrow?”

“Better not risk it.”

“Okay.”

He heads for the door, and Clarke quickly gets off the bed and rushes over to kiss him goodbye.

“Think of me,” she tells him. As if he could ever think of anything else.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys wonder what is even going on in this fic and where it's going? Cause same.

It takes every ounce of Bellamy’s will power to keep his promise to Clarke not to touch himself. He can distract himself for a couple of hours at a time, but his thoughts always inevitably end up on Clarke, and then his dick is hard and throbbing again, his balls ready to burst. It’s especially hard when he’s lying in bed at night and all he can think about is having her there in bed with him, naked, wet, and willing. He’s lost count of the number of cold showers he’s had to take, and it’s only been one day.

He considers breaking his promise. He’s sure she wouldn’t be able to tell if he’d masturbated. She’d have to take his word for it. But his desire to keep her trust outweighs his desire to come. And that’s saying something, because he desperately wants to come. If he thought his blue balls were bad before, it’s nothing compared to now.

He has Clarke’s class first thing Monday morning, and he can’t seem to take his eyes off her. It doesn’t matter that she’s just sitting there, doing her work and participating in class discussion like he asked her to. He’s probably imagining that she’s undressing him with her eyes. She probably doesn’t realise how seductive he finds it when she sucks on the end of her pen. If he wasn’t so worked up and horny, he’d probably think the way she licks her lips is perfectly innocent. God, he even finds it sexy when she furrows her brow in concentration.

He tells himself it’s going to get easier. Once he can get through the first week or so of celibacy, of being unable to come, it will be easier to ignore his urges. Except part of him doesn’t want to ignore his urges. Part of him wants to give in to her, to let her ride his cock, to fill her with his come. But for now, the slightly more rational side of him wins out.

He has a couple of hours of reprieve over the course of his next few classes. He’s distracted enough by the material he’s teaching and the students in his other classes that he doesn’t really think about Clarke or how horny he is. But then she’s walking through his office door at lunch, and his cock immediately jumps to attention. It’s fucking pathetic.

“How was your weekend, Mr Blake?” Clarke asks as she settles into the seat across from him. As much as he presence is a constant distraction for him, he’s become accustomed to having her there, and he’d be disappointed if she didn’t show up.

“Less productive than I would have liked,” Bellamy answers. Clarke smiles cheekily.

“Did you do anything you weren’t supposed to?”

“By society’s standards or yours?”

“Mine.”

“I didn’t do anything I wasn’t supposed to.”

Clarke bites her lip, studying him, trying to work out if he’s telling the truth. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“You’ll just have to trust me, sweetheart,” Bellamy says. “But believe me, it hasn’t been easy. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Really?”

“Of course, baby. No one gets me hard like you.”

“Are you hard right now?”

Bellamy chuckles. “God, yes. I’ve been hard since you walked into the room.” He sees her squeeze her thighs together, and he comforts himself with the knowledge that at least she’s as desperate for him as he is for her.

“I want to feel.”

Bellamy groans. “Come here, sweetheart.” He beckons her over. “Come sit in my lap.”

Clarke leaps off her seat and eagerly hurries around the desk. Bellamy pushes his chair out and leans back. Clarke eyes his bulge, her mouth practically watering. Bellamy puts his hands on the backs of her thighs, guiding her onto his lap, a knee on either side of his body. Her panty-clad pussy presses against his hard-on as she straddles him, and his cock twitches. All that separates him from her are her panties, his pants, and his boxers. He knows he’s playing with fire here.

Clarke gives a whine, rubbing herself against his erection. Bellamy’s hands find their way to her ass, cupping her cheeks and stroking her through her panties. He pulls her firmer against his crotch and she gasps, squirming against him. Her tits press against his chest as he leans up to kiss her.

“Bell,” she moans against his mouth. “I want to come.”

“Then make yourself come,” he whispers. Clarke moans again. She grinds her hips against him.

“Like this?” she asks. Bellamy nods. Clarke rocks against him, slow at first, and it’s enough to drive him crazy, get his cock throbbing. But he’s always been proud of his stamina, his self-control, and he knows he won’t come unless he lets himself.

Clarke’s arms wrap around his neck, and she picks up the pace, her eyes closing as she rubs her clit against his bulge through their clothes. He grips her ass, urging her on, trying to ignore his own growing need. As she desperately humps him, it gets harder and harder to remain still, to not thrust against her, take control, rip off her panties and fuck her like he wants to. His breathing becomes uneven as he struggles to hold onto his composure.

He needs her to slow down, but she’s so desperate, so needy, he can’t bring himself to tell her to stop. Plus, it feels so fucking good. He doesn’t even realise he’s about to come until it’s too late. He jerks against her, gasping as he empties himself into his boxers. Fuck. Holy fuck. He just came in his pants. He doesn’t think he’s _ever_ done that with a woman before, even when he was a teenager. He feels himself turning red, embarrassed that he’d reached his climax before her, that he’d come at all, that he doesn’t have as much self-control as he thought he did.

Clarke doesn’t seem to realise what’s happened at first, and she continues to try and fuck herself against his now soft cock.

“Clarke, enough,” Bellamy says. He grabs her around the waist and shifts her off his lap. She whines in disappointment.

“You said I could come,” she pouts, folding her arms, pushing her tits up.

“I changed my mind. We’re out of time. I need you to go.”

“But—”

“ _Go_ , Clarke,” he snaps. Clarke flinches, looks hurt for a moment. Then she gives him a glare, gathers her things and storms from the room. Bellamy groans, looking down at his pants. His come hasn’t leaked through, thankfully. But he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have time to go back to his room and change before his next class. He pulls his pants down, grabbing a handful of tissues, trying to clean himself up as best he can. God, there’s so much fucking come. It’s already soaked his boxers.

The bell goes and Bellamy pulls his pants back on, feeling humiliated and foolish. He’s not looking forward to an afternoon of teaching in come stained boxers. And he feels like an asshole for how he treated Clarke. He’s surprised she hadn’t noticed right away that he’d come. It’s not like he wasn’t obvious about it. He probably could’ve explained, apologised. But he’s been so adamant that she never makes him come, never _sees_ him come, that he freaked out. That, plus the embarrassment of having come prematurely, made him lash out at her.

Defeated, Bellamy gathers his things and heads to class. After an uncomfortable afternoon, he heads straight to his room when the final bell goes. He can’t stand another second in his soiled underwear. By now his come has dried, leaving his boxers hard and crusty. He feels disgusting.

He showers, and as his hands linger on his cock, and his thoughts linger on Clarke, dry humping him in his office, he feels himself growing hard again. He groans, dropping his head against the shower wall. He’s not going to jerk off. He promised her he wouldn’t. He’s not going to fuck her. He promised himself he wouldn’t. He’s not going to fuck someone else, mostly because he promised her he wouldn’t, but also because he doesn’t really want to. He just wants her, no one else. But his cock can’t take this. Can’t take having her in his arms, his hands, every day, with no potential for relief.

Perhaps he needs to take a little break from her. Take this back to a strictly student/teacher relationship. He wonders if he even has the willpower to stay away from her. He never has before. But perhaps if he puts up the boundaries, tells her it’s over, just for a while, while he collects himself, she can be the one to enforce the separation.  

He has no way of contacting her, other than her school email and her Twitter account. He’s sure as hell not using the school email to talk about this, so he opens Twitter and his private messages to her. Or rather, hers to him. The video she sent him of her masturbating is still there, tempting him.

He strengthens his resolve and taps out a message to her.

_Clarke. I’m sorry for this afternoon. This is all a little much for me right now, and I need to take a break. Our afterschool sessions are cancelled until further notice. Please don’t come to my office during or after school hours. If you have any questions about classwork you can email me on my school account or see me in class. I still expect good behaviour from you during class._

_Bellamy._

He rereads it, and after deciding it’s the perfect mix of firm but considerate, he hits send.

 

-

 

She doesn’t reply to his message. She doesn’t speak to him in class. Doesn’t so much as look at him. He feels sick about it. All he wants to do is grab her and kiss her and tell her he’s sorry. He half expects her to go back to her old ways, acting up in class, begging for punishment. She doesn’t though. She just sits at the back of the class, doing her work silently, like he’d wanted of her all along. He wants her to make a fuss, give him an excuse to pull her up to the front of the class and spank her. God, he wishes he could make up his mind. He wishes this could be easy. He wishes he didn’t want her, or that he was allowed to want her.

He still spends his nights thinking of her. He’s not sure what possessed him to think that would change. And yet he still refuses to masturbate, or find someone else to fuck, because he promised her he wouldn’t and as far as he’s concerned, that promise still stands. He wonders if she’s still keeping her promises to him.

She ignores him for three days. She still does all her school work, but she doesn’t ask or answer any questions in class. He doesn’t try to call on her, keep her after class or even make eye contact with her. He imagines she hates him. It’s awful.

And he’s still fucking horny as hell, and he’s afraid any hint of friction will cause him to come in his pants again. It’s torture. But he tells himself it’s the right thing, because they both need space, because he needs to get his head straight. And if this is the way their relationship remains for the rest of the school year, it’s probably for the best. It kills him, but it’s for the best.

On Thursday night, he’s up late, grading papers in an effort to tire himself out so he’ll hopefully fall straight to sleep, instead of tossing and turning, his dick hard, pining over Clarke.

There’s a timid knock at the door, and he knows instantly that it’s her. Who else would come knocking at his door in the middle of the night? He stares at the door, his heart pounding. He debates not answering, but he already knows he will. He glances down at his attire. Pyjama pants and no shirt. Acceptable enough. He gets up, and as he’s making his way to the door, she knocks again, louder this time.

He opens the door, and there she is, looking unsure of herself. She’s dressed in pyjamas herself, just a shirt and little shorts, but she still manages to take his breath away with how sexy she looks.

“Clarke,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

“You said not to come to your office. You never said don’t come to your room.”

He’d kind of figured that one didn’t need to be said. But she’s here anyway.

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please?” she says. Her lower lip trembles. “Not for anything… naughty.” She swallows. “I just—” She looks at her feet. “I miss you. I’m lonely.” She looks back at up at him. “Don’t you miss me too?”

Bellamy’s heart breaks a little, and he can’t resist that voice, those big blue eyes, pleading with him, begging him for his attention, his time, his affection.

“Yes,” he tells her. He stands aside and lets her in. Even though her eyes rake over his chest and it makes his cock jump. Even though his hands are already itching to touch her. Even if this is crossing all the boundaries he’d made for himself. He shuts the door.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pulls off mask* yes, that's right, it was me all along!
> 
> in case you're confused, i posted this to a different account but i moved it to here. same story, same author. 
> 
>  
> 
> also i have no idea if this story has any continuity because it's been so long since i updated and i couldn't be bothered reading the whole thing again.

She’s in his room. She says she just wants his company, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s in his room in the middle of the night and he’s horny as hell with only a tiny shred of self-control left. He should never have let her in, but it’s too late to kick her out now. Or at least, that’s what he’s telling himself.

Bellamy watches as Clarke looks around his room, taking interest in the books on his shelf, the photo of Octavia and his mom on the desk. Finally, her eyes fall on the bed. The sheets are all messed up, and somehow it makes him feel dirty, even though he just changed them this morning.

Clarke makes for the bed and sits on the edge, drawing her legs up under her. Bellamy swallows. He maintains a safe distance, sitting on the desk chair across the room from her. Which is still far too close, seeing as the room isn’t exactly big. Clarke looks disappointed that he doesn’t join her on the bed.

“Are you mad at me?” Clarke asks.

Bellamy shakes his head. “Why would I be mad?”

“You seemed mad when you kicked me out of your office the other day. And then you didn’t speak to me for three days. And you still wouldn’t be speaking to me if I hadn’t shown up here.”

Bellamy lets out a controlled breath. “Clarke, I’m sorry,” he says. “It wasn’t your fault. I overreacted.”

“But I still don’t understand what happened,” Clarke says. “Why were you mad? Why did you stop speaking to me?”

“You have to understand—” He stops. She’s watching him intently, waiting for his explanation. “You have to understand… I’m always trying to keep my composure around you. I want you to think that I’m in control, that I know what I’m doing. But I’m not.” It’s hard for him to admit that, but he figures she deserves the truth. She seems surprised, so it seems he’s been doing a good job of hiding it. “I thought I could handle…” he gestures vaguely with his hand. “This. You. But then you made me come, and I had no control over it and I freaked out.”

Clarke’s eyes widen. “I made you come? When?”

Bellamy almost laughs at her innocence. “When you were grinding yourself on my cock in my office the other day,” he says wryly. “Obviously.”

Clarke’s skin turns scarlet, all the way down to her chest. Good god, he really doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.

“I want to do it again,” she murmurs. “I want to see it this time.”

Bellamy groans, rubbing his hand over his face. “Clarke. You promised nothing naughty,” he says. Even though he’s already fantasising about pulling her onto his cock and destroying her with it. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He tries to surreptitiously look down at his crotch to see if his hard on is visible. It is. When his eyes flick back to Clarke, she’s looking too.

“But you so obviously want to,” she says.

“Clarke,” Bellamy says. “It’s not about what I want. What I want is too much. It’s unspeakable, what I want from you. And I need you to accept that it’s never going to happen. You shouldn’t even be here. But I let you in anyway, because I’m weak. And if you keep pushing me, I’ll break, and that weakness will ruin both our lives.”

Clarke bites her lip. She nods. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Bellamy locks his jaw. He’s so tired of trying to be strong. He wants to give in to her so badly. He knows he’s all talk, that his words are empty. He knows it’s only a matter of time before he gives in and fucks her. But perhaps he’s bought himself some time. Perhaps if she stops asking him, he’ll stop thinking about it.

“Do you want me to leave?” Clarke whispers. Bellamy hesitates. Does he want her to leave? No, not at all. Does he think she should? Probably.  “We can just talk,” Clarke hastens to add.

“Stay.”

“Okay.” She lies down in his bed and pulls the covers over her. Maybe she thinks there will be less temptation for him if he can’t see her body. Little does she know, just the sight of her in his bed is enough to drive him crazy. “Bellamy?”

“Yes?”

“Will you spoon me? I just—I need to be touched. Is that okay?”

Bellamy swallows thickly. How can he deny her the affection she so desperately needs? He has a feeling she doesn’t get it from anyone else. He stands up, his heart pounding. He crawls over her and lies down beside her, his bare chest against her back, him on top of the covers and her underneath. Their skin doesn’t actually touch, apart from their arms, but it still feels tantalisingly dangerous.

“What do you want to talk about?” Bellamy asks, mostly to try and keep his mind off her body.

“Anything. I just like listening to your voice.” She reaches for the lamp beside the bed and switches it off, plunging the room into darkness. Bellamy shivers. Anything could happen in the dark. “Tell me about your family,” Clarke says. Good, a safe topic. Nothing that’s going to get him turned on. Well, more than he already is.

“Well, back home I have a mom and a sister. Octavia, that’s my sister’s name. She’s your age. A little younger. I try to visit every couple of weeks. I’m paying for her school. Mom doesn’t make a lot of money.”

“Oh. Is it hard to watch all these spoilt rich kids who have no idea how good they’ve got it?”

Bellamy chuckles. “Sometimes. But then I just spank them and I feel a lot better.” Clarke squirms against him and his cock jumps. Oops. Back to safe topics. “My dad died when I was a baby. And I think Octavia’s dad is in prison now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What about you?”

“My dad is also dead. Heart attack. Mom isn’t around much anymore, since he died, so I spend a lot of time at school. It’s not like she doesn’t care about me, I know she does. But I think I remind her too much of dad. I know she worries about me though. She gets our neighbour, Roan, to check on me sometimes when she’s away.”

The name Roan rings a bell. The person Clarke was on the phone to when he’s confiscated it in class. Bellamy is relieved it’s just a random neighbour, and not an ex-boyfriend or something.

“And he thinks it’s okay to call you during class time, does he?”

Clarke snorts. “I forgot about that. I texted him and told him it was an emergency so he called me. He told me off later.”

“You were such a brat,” Bellamy says fondly, stroking her arm.

“But it worked, didn’t it?” Clarke says smugly. “I got you to notice me.”

“Noticing you was never the issue. I always noticed you.”

Clarke hums happily. “Tell me more. I want to know everything about you. When’s your birthday?”

“May 15th.”

“Mine’s November 23rd. Same as Miley Cyrus.”

“Of course.”

“Favourite animal?”

“Cat. Let me guess, you’re a horse girl.”

Clarke scoffs. “Everyone knows Maya is the horse girl in our year. I like dolphins.”

“Horse of the sea.”

“Wouldn’t that be a seahorse?”

“You can’t ride a seahorse. Besides, don’t all rich people ride horses?”

“Such a stereotype!”

“Can you ride a horse?”

“That’s beside the point.”

Bellamy laughs, and Clarke goes silent for a moment. “Okay, tell me something else. Something personal, that you wouldn’t tell any of the other girls.”

“Like what?”

“Like, I don’t know.” She rubs her thumb on his arm. “When did you lose your virginity?”

Bellamy thinks. “When I was sixteen.”

“And?”

“It was with my girlfriend at the time. Her parents were away for the weekend so I snuck out and went to her place. She was really prepared, she had condoms and lube and everything. I guess because we’d talked about it, but I didn’t really think she was serious because all my friends told me that girls would just say they would have sex with you so you’d stay with them but they’d never do it.”

“Your friends sound like idiots.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So… it was good? Like, for both of you? It didn’t hurt her?”

“I think it hurt a little bit for her at first but she pushed through it. I can’t remember if she had an orgasm. Probably not. I had no idea what I was doing,” Bellamy laughs.

“Did you love her?”

“Love her?” Bellamy wonders aloud. “I’m not sure. I think I thought I did at the time.” Clarke falls silent again. Bellamy opens his mouth to speak. He probably shouldn’t ask, but he can’t help it, and she brought up the topic. So maybe she wants to talk about it.

“And what about you, sweetheart?” he says softly. “How did you lose your virginity? That girl you dated?”

Clarke is silent for a moment. “Um. No.”

“Come on, you can tell me,” Bellamy says. He’s suddenly desperate to know who had her first, who got to have her before he did, who else has touched her.

“I—” she stops and goes silent.

“Clarke,” he says, suddenly worried. “Someone didn’t force you, did they?” He lifts himself onto his elbow, and turns her face towards him. He can’t see her well in the dark, so he reaches over and turns the lamp back on. Her face is bright red.

“No,” she says. “Nothing like that.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says, dubious. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s just that—” Clarke looks away from him. “I lied before. When you asked me if I was a virgin.”

Bellamy’s chest tightens. “Clarke,” he says. “Are you a virgin?” He holds his breath as he waits for the answer, though he knows what it is already.

“Yes,” she says quietly.

“Fuck,” he says, dropping his head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says. “I thought if you knew you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.” When Bellamy looks at her again, she has tears in her eyes. His heart lurches.

“Oh, sweetheart, no,” he says. “No, I’m not mad at you. You don’t have to be sorry.” He presses his lips to her cheek, just below her eye, kissing her tears away. She probably should have told him, sure, but he kind of gets why she wouldn’t. He’s mad at himself. Partly because he feels even more like a predator now. He’s got a fucking eighteen-year-old virgin in his bed. The things he’s done to her already… was he the first to do _any_ of those things to her?

The thing he hates most about himself right now though, is the way his cock had sprung to attention when she admitted she was a virgin. That finding out she’s a virgin only makes him want to fuck her more, even though it should be the very opposite. But god, he wants to show her what it’s like. He wants to be the first one to put his cock in her, make her his. It’s disgusting, he knows. But he can’t help what it does to him.

“Clarke, I need you to be honest with me,” Bellamy says. “Was I the first person to touch you sexually?”

Clarke nods shyly. He can’t help himself. He kisses her. His hard cock presses against her ass through the covers. He wants her so badly. But not tonight.

“Bellamy,” Clarke whimpers. “I want you to fuck me.”

“I know,” he says. “Feel how much I want you too. But not now. Not here.”

Clarke’s eyes widen, and her pretty mouth drops open. “But you’ll fuck me one day?”

“Yes.”

“What about what you said before?”

“Like I said, I’m weak.”

Silence, and then, “When?”

Bellamy considers. “Can you wait until you graduate?” He doesn’t know if _he_ can wait until she graduates, but the notion gives him some semblance of having morals.

“Yes,” she says. They fall into silence again, no doubt both thinking of Clarke’s graduation in a few months, and what that promises. “Can I sleep here?” Clarke asks.

Bellamy hesitates, but then nods. “We just have to make sure you’re up early enough to get back to your own room, okay?”

“Okay.”

Bellamy leans over her again to switch off the lamp. As he lies there in the dark, he doesn’t know how he’s going to fall asleep with Clarke there in his arms. Not that he doesn’t like having her there. Her sweet scent fills his nostrils, her soft body seems to fit against his perfectly. But he’s on edge, feeling like he can’t relax in case he does something he shouldn’t. Thankfully, she lies still beside him, he doesn’t know if his cock could take much movement from her.

He must fall asleep eventually though, because the next thing he knows, he’s on the edge of orgasm, his cock between her legs, hips thrusting towards her while she rolls her ass against him. The covers have been pushed away to the end of the bed. He jerks away from her, rolling over and sitting up, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Fuck,” he mutters. His cock aches, his balls are about to burst. He knots his hands together to stop himself from shoving them into his pyjama pants and finishing the job.

“Bellamy?” Clarke says, her voice husky with sleep. Yeah, he could have done without knowing what that sounds like. Why is everything about her so goddamn fucking sexy?

“Go back to sleep, Clarke,” Bellamy says.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. I just—” he takes a deep breath. “I just really need to come. Clarke, I need—”

She sits up beside him and leans against his shoulder. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

She presses her lips against his arm. He glances at her, though he can’t really see her in the dark.

“Suck my cock,” he says. “Please.” He doesn’t mean to sound so desperate, but it seems he’s lost all ability to hide his true feelings. He’s overcome with the need to have those lips wrapped around his cock.

Clarke hesitates. “Are you sure?”

His stomach drops. “Shit. Sorry,” he squeezes his eyes shut. “You don’t want to anymore.”

“No, I do!” Clarke says hurriedly. “It’s just, you were so adamant before. And I’ve never done it, I might not be very good—”

He kisses her, drawing it out, savouring the taste of her tongue. “You’ll be perfect,” he says as he pulls away. “Please,” he says, his lips still only a centimetre from hers. “Please, Clarke, I need you to suck my cock so badly.”

He hears her breath hitch. She scrambles for the lamp in the dark, and they both squint into the sudden light when she flicks the switch on.

“I need to see,” she says. Bellamy just nods. Clarke moves so that she’s between his legs, facing him. His erection forms a massive tent in his pyjama pants. Cautiously, she tugs his pants down, stopping when his cock and balls are fully visible.

“I forgot how big it is,” she says. Bellamy watches her as she studies his cock, eyes wide and curious. She runs a finger along the underside, then wraps a hand around him. Bellamy shivers. It occurs to him that this is the first time she’s ever touched a cock. She doesn’t seem repulsed by it, which is a good sign.

She removes her hand and Bellamy helps her pull his pants down the rest of the way, until he’s naked in front of her for the second time. She tucks her hair behind her ears, a gesture Bellamy can’t help but find endearing. She’s on her knees between his legs, gazing down at his cock. She meets his eyes. Bellamy’s heart thrums as she lowers her head. She sucks the tip of his cock into her mouth, and Bellamy swears he almost comes at that first contact. Even if he couldn’t feel anything, he could probably still come from just the sight of her mouth around his cock.

She pulls away. “What should I do?” she asks.

“Whatever you want to. I’ll tell you if it doesn’t feel good.”

“Okay.”

She drops her head again, and this time she takes him into her mouth further. Not the whole way. Not even half. He can feel her tongue fluttering against his cock. She pops him out of her mouth, and then she wraps her hand around the base and teases the tip with her tongue, licking up the precum that’s gathered there. He wants to keep watching her, but it’s too much, he doesn’t think he can hold himself up any longer. He lies back, dropping his head onto his pillow just as Clarke licks a stripe along the underside of his cock. She runs her tongue over his balls, first one, then the other, then she puts her whole mouth over one, still gently tonguing him.

Bellamy runs his fingers through his hair and grips tightly, mostly to stop himself from grabbing _her_ hair. He doesn’t want to scare her off. He closes his eyes, breathing heavily. Clarke drops him from her mouth, then kisses her way along his length sloppily, back to the head. She takes him into her mouth again, deeper this time. She feels so perfect around his cock. He can only imagine what her pussy will feel like. She gets more than halfway before she gags. Bellamy groans. She’s trying so hard to take his whole cock.

“Sweetheart,” he says, his voice coming out less than even. “You don’t have to take the whole thing. Especially on your first go.”

Clarke whines, but she backs off. Instead she focuses on the part she can fit into her mouth, while using her hand to stimulate the rest. She bobs up and down on his cock, and Bellamy can’t stop himself from threading his fingers into her hair this time. He wants to tell her how good she’s doing, how good she’s making him feel, but he can’t seem to formulate words. All that comes out of his mouth gasps and moans of pleasure. He’s so close now, and he desperately wants to thrust into her mouth, but he manages to keep himself still, letting her be the one in control.

“Clarke,” he manages, sounding wrecked. “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, you need to stop now,” he warns. He’s surprised he’s even managed to last this long. She doesn’t stop. She sucks on him, sending him hurtling over the edge, his come spilling into her mouth as he jerks his hips towards her mouth. He spasms beneath her, pleasure rolling through his body as he finally gets his long-awaited release.

When she’s sure he’s done, Clarke drops his cock from her mouth and swallows his come. All of it.

“Fucking hell,” Bellamy mutters. “You’re amazing.”

Clarke looks proud of herself. She also looks flushed and horny. Bellamy reaches for his phone to check the time. A few minutes after three. Only a couple of hours before Clarke needs to return to her room.

“Two hours,” Bellamy says. “Do you want to sleep, or do you want me to make you come?”

Clarke’s eyes light up wickedly. “Make me come.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey look, it's me again! surprised?

5am comes too quickly. Bellamy can tell Clarke wants to stay longer, from the reluctant way she disentangled herself from him and gets out of his bed. He wants her to stay longer too. But the later she stays, the more chance there is of being caught. Bellamy stays in bed, sheets draped over his legs, allowing his eyes to roam over her body before she covers it up with her pyjamas. They’re both exhausted, but they’re all slow, secret smiles, drunk off the feel of each other’s skin. And they haven’t even fucked yet. Bellamy knows he’s done for.

He gets up when she’s dressed and hands her his phone.

“Put your number in,” he says. He’ll probably regret it later. Clarke taps her number in and Bellamy saves it under _Sweetheart,_ with a heart emoji next to it. “I’ll message you so you can have my number too. Don’t save it as Bellamy. Or Mr Blake.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Clarke says.

Bellamy smiles. “I know.” He leads her to the door, and then he tugs her in to kiss her, brief but intense. She’s flushed when he pulls away. “I’ll see you in class,” he says. Clarke nods. Bellamy opens the door and glances down the hallway, making sure there’s no one lurking in the shadows. He lets the door swing the rest of the way open. Clarke brushes past him, and Bellamy can’t resist grabbing her wrist and pulling her back so he can kiss her one last time.

“You’re going to get us caught,” Clarke whispers.

“I’m not,” Bellamy murmurs. “There’s nobody around. We’re fine.”

“Okay,” Clarke says. She kisses him again. Bellamy is thankful Clarke seems to be thinking straight, and is the one to pull away and finally start heading back to her room. If it had been up to Bellamy, he would have pulled her back inside and back to bed without a second thought.

Not for the first time, Bellamy wishes he was allowed to want her. Sure, the sneaking around, the illicit nature of their relationship just makes the whole thing that much hotter. But he wishes he didn’t have to worry about sneaking her out of his room at 5am. He wishes he could touch her and kiss her whenever and wherever he pleases. He knows it’s not possible. Not now, not ever.

Bellamy goes back to bed, and plays the memory of Clarke sucking his cock for the first time over and over in his head.

 

-

 

He has to go home that weekend, since he stayed at school last weekend. Well, it’s not that he has to, and it’s not that he hates doing it or anything. He does feel some obligation to check up on his mom and Octavia, but it’s not a hardship for him. It’s just that he’d rather spend the weekend with Clarke, and her sultry pout when he tells her he won’t be at school over the weekend doesn’t make it easier to leave. But she sucks his dick again anyway, after school on Friday afternoon in his office, and makes him promise again that he won’t touch himself while he’s gone.

The most important thing he does on the weekend is go and get himself tested for any potential STDs. He’s pretty sure he’s not diseased, but he wants to be completely sure before he finally fucks Clarke. He really doesn’t want to ruin her first time by infecting her with chlamydia or something.

Bree texts him on Saturday. He’s not tempted at all to go and see her, and he thinks he probably won’t ever want to see her again. He tells her he’s seeing someone else. Figures that’s the best way to let her down easy. It was always just sex between the two of them anyway, and Bellamy knows she won’t be heartbroken, if a little disappointed.

Instead, he spends the night in with his mom and sister, watching an old movie Aurora likes. Kind of like old times. He gets a text from Clarke halfway through the movie.

**_I miss you_ , **it says. He glances at his mom and sister, making sure they’re engrossed in the movie before he opens it to respond. Before he can tap out a response, another message comes through. A photo. A selfie, with her bare tits visible. He almost groans out loud. Then another of her naked pussy.

**_I’m so wet. I can’t stop thinking about you fucking me._ **

Bellamy holds his breath as he types his reply. **_You’re not touching yourself, are you?_**

**_No, but I want to so bad. I’m so horny._ **

**_Me too, baby. But we have to wait until Monday. I’ll lick your cunt until you can’t think straight._ **

Somehow, he manages to keep a straight face while he writes the message. He’s not in such great control of his cock.

**_You’re such a tease._ **

Bellamy can’t help smiling at that. _He’s_ a tease? That’s rich, coming from her.

“Why are you smiling?” Octavia asks, and Bellamy looks up, trying to make his face go back to normal. “Are you texting a girl?”

“No. It’s a meme.”

“Show me.”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

Octavia snorts. “Yeah, right.” For a moment he panics, thinking Octavia is going to try and wrestle him for the phone. But then she just rolls her eyes and turns back to the movie. Bellamy turns his attention back to his phone.

**_Can’t talk right now, sweetheart. But I’ll be thinking of you._ **

 

-

 

At Bellamy’s old school, the kids got the whole day off school for parent teacher night, so the teachers had all day to prepare for the parents. Arkadia Girls Grammar offers no such luxury. The parents would rather die than hear that their children are taking an unnecessary break from school.

Bellamy is already prepared, so it doesn’t phase him too much. He’s just annoyed that he doesn’t have any time to spend with Clarke before the parents start arriving to hound him about why their kid isn’t the best in the class.

“Can I come and see you after school, Mr Blake?” Clarke asks him after history class. The rest of the students are gone, but she’s still calling him Mr Blake anyway, fluttering her eyelashes at him and pushing her tits out. “I have something I want to show you.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “Sorry, baby, you’ll have to wait a little longer. I’ll have parents in and out of my office all night.”

Clarke pouts. “When will you be done?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll message you as soon as the last one is out the door, I promise.”

Clarke nods. Bellamy wishes he could risk a kiss then, but the classroom has a window in the door, and the hallway is full of students on their way to their next class. Plus, he doesn’t trust himself to stop with just one kiss.

“I’ll see you later,” he promises. “Go, or you’ll be late for your next class.” Clarke nods and hurries off.

 

-

 

There are a lot of great things about being a teacher. There are also a lot of not-so-great things. In Bellamy’s opinion, dealing with parents is the _worst_ thing about being a teacher.

The first parent barges into his office at a quarter to four, even though his first session isn’t supposed to start until four. But he smiles and goes over their child’s work, answers their aggressive questions and assures them their daughter is doing fine, but perhaps she should actually do her homework instead of getting her friend to do it for her.

With each new parent that comes in, Bellamy loses his patience a little more, but he still has to act polite, because these people basically pay his salary. Some of them are nice enough, and just want to hear how _great_ their little angel is. Some of them blame him and accuse him of not doing enough to help their child and that’s why little Charlotte is failing a class that he doesn’t even teach.

By eight, he’s ripping his hair out, not sure he can make it through the last few interviews. He gets a message from Clarke and hurries to check it before the next parent walks through his door.

**_Are you done yet?_ **

**_Almost. Just a few more and then I’ll have my mouth on you._ **

He quickly turns his phone face down as another parent walks into his office. He takes a deep breath. He just has to get through this, then two more, then he’s done for the night. The thought of Clarke is the only thing keeping him sane.

Maya’s father isn’t a particularly hard parent to deal with, he seems to just genuinely want to know how Maya is doing, and then he’s gone within a couple of minutes. Bellamy closes his eyes as the man leaves, grateful for a short reprieve before the next parent shows up. It only lasts a few seconds before he hears his office door shut. He opens his eyes, and there’s Clarke, leaning against the door.

She’s dressed in her school uniform, the slutty one she used to wear just for his classes. No bra, her nipples completely visible. He thinks the skirt may be even shorter than the last time he saw it. And black heels that are so high it’s a miracle she’s able to walk in them. His cock stirs and his heart starts pounding.

“Clarke,” he says, sitting up straight. “What are you doing here? I still have parents to see.”

“I couldn’t wait,” Clarke says. She’s already unbuttoning her shirt, walking towards him. Bellamy swallows thickly, watching her, enraptured, as her tits come in to full view.

“Did anyone see you?” he asks. It’s dangerous for her to be walking the halls dressed like that. Clarke shakes her head. Bellamy stands up and hurries to her side, ready to usher her back out of his office. “You need to go before someone sees you. I _promise_ it won’t be long.”

“Kiss me?”

Bellamy hooks his arm around her waist and pulls her naked breasts against his chest, slipping his tongue into her mouth in the same movement. He only means to kiss her quickly, but then she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and his hands find her bare ass, and she grinds her pussy against his now fully erect cock. He edges her back against the desk and hoists her up so she’s sitting on it and he’s standing between her legs. In the back of his mind he knows he can’t fuck her right now. They don’t have long enough. He’s not about to make her first time some quick fuck in his office. He’s going to make it special for her.

All the same, he keeps kissing her. Unable to keep his hands to himself, they skirt over her skin, until he wedges one between her legs, feeling the wetness that’s pooled there.

“What have you been thinking about?” Bellamy asks her, lips trailing down her jaw to her neck.

“Sucking your cock,” Clarke says. “I want to do it again.”

“You’ll get to, sweetheart,” he promises.

He freezes when someone knocks on the door. The next parent.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck. Do your buttons up.”

“Mr Blake?” a woman calls. Clarke pauses, her eyes growing wide.

“Just a second!” he calls back. Clarke only has half her buttons done up, but it’s not like it matters anyway. She can’t go out there dressed like she is. One look at her see through shirt and scrap of a skirt would be a red flag to any adult.

“Bellamy, I think that’s—”

“Shh,” he hushes her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He kisses the top of her head. “I need you to hide under the desk.”

Clarke nods, jumping off the desk and walking around it. She ducks underneath and Bellamy turns towards the door. He looks down and decides his erection isn’t too noticeable. He goes over to the door and opens it, letting the woman inside. He smiles, too widely.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “Just… getting things in order. Take a seat.” He gestures the woman over to his desk and takes his seat while she sits across from him. He glances down at Clarke, looking up at him, wide eyed and red faced. He looks back towards his visitor and clears his throat.

“Lovely to meet you, Mrs…” he glances down at his appointment sheet. His stomach drops and his blood turns ice cold. “Griffin,” he chokes out. Holy fucking shit. He looks back up at her.

“Clarke’s mother,” she says. Bellamy nods. He should probably say something. But the only thing in his brain at the moment is the word _fuck_. “Are you alright, Mr Blake?” Mrs Griffin asks. Bellamy reaches for his glass of water and takes a couple of long gulps. He nods as he puts the glass down.

Logically, Bellamy knew Clarke had a mother. She even talked about her last week. Somehow it didn’t occur to him that he’d actually have to _meet_ the woman whose daughter he’s been corrupting.

“It’s just been a long night,” he says. “And please, call me Bellamy.” His face heats up as he recalls saying something very similar to her daughter only a couple of weeks ago, while he had his head buried between her legs. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Abby,” Mrs Griffin returns.

He tries to ignore Clarke kneeling under his desk. But she doesn’t make it easy when she pushes his knees apart and starts fondling his junk through his trousers. He should stop her, probably, but he doesn’t.

“Well, how is my daughter doing in history?” Abby asks. Bellamy reaches for his notes on Clarke. Clarke undoes his fly and pulls his cock out.

“Clarke is—” he starts. Clarke’s tongue sweeps over the head of his cock. He tries to gather himself. He knows he should push her away. Shouldn’t let her blow him while her mom is sitting right there. Of all the ways they could be caught, this is probably the worst way he can think of. But it feels so fucking good. It’s so fucking filthy that she wants to put his big cock in her mouth while her mother is in the room, unaware of what a filthy slut her daughter is, sucking her teacher’s cock, her tits out, no panties on. The sinfulness of the situation only makes him want it more.

“Clarke is—” he tries again. _Clarke is licking my cock under the desk right now._ “Clarke is an excellent student.”

“Is that right? Principal Diyoza told me you had to resort to corporal punishment,” Abby says. She doesn’t look impressed by this fact, but neither is she jumping down his throat.

“Yes,” Bellamy says. Clarke takes him into her mouth. Just a bit at first, taking her time. Then further, and further, until she has his whole length inside her. She fucking learned how to deepthroat him over the weekend. He almost comes right then.

“Why was that?”

“I had some, uh, trouble with Clarke in the beginning,” Bellamy says. “She—mmm, uh, she was very disruptive.”

Clarke doesn’t let up. She sucks him and licks him messily, and Bellamy is surprised Abby hasn’t heard the sloppy wet noises coming from under the desk as her daughter takes a dick in her mouth like it’s candy.

“Not to question your teaching, Bellamy, but that doesn’t sound like my Clarke. She’s usually very well behaved. And I’m aware of what I agreed to by sending Clarke here, and I have no problem with the use of corporal punishment if it’s deemed necessary. But really—”

 “Oh my god,” Bellamy groans. It’s everything to do with Clarke’s mouth on him and nothing to do with Abby.

Abby bristles. “That’s really not necessary, Mr Blake. I was only asking for an explanation.”

“I know,” he says. He bites his lip to keep from groaning out loud again. “I’m sorry. Clarke seemed to take particular issue with me.”

“And why would that be?”

“Some of the other students seemed to think she might have a crush on me.”

Abby considers this, looking at him long and hard. Meanwhile, Clarke licks Bellamy’s balls, then back to his cock, then deepthroats him again. Bellamy’s fingers tighten on the armrests of his chair, his knuckles turning white as he tries to control his breathing and facial expressions. Clarke’s mouth slides up and down his cock. He’s so fucking close to coming.

“I see,” says Abby. It seems she finds it believable that her daughter might have a crush on him.

“I tried a lot of different strategies,” Bellamy says. “Spanking was the only thing that worked.”

Abby screws up her nose. “Please don’t use that word. It makes it sound dirty.” If only she fucking knew.

“Sorry,” he says. He gasps. He’s about to come. He’s about to come in Clarke’s mouth while her mother lectures him for using the word _spanking_. He’s going to hell for sure. He’s right on the brink, knowing Abby is going to be able to tell he’s coming when he can’t control his face or his voice. And then Clarke stops, letting him slip from her mouth. He’s half relieved, half agonised. His cock throbs painfully, craving release. But at least he doesn’t have to try and explain to Clarke’s mom why he just had an orgasm.

“She’s doing well now though?”

“Her test results and school work has always been impeccable,” Bellamy says, his breathing gradually returning to normal. “I’m just happy that her behaviour now reflects that.”

Abby nods. “Good. That’s all I really needed to know.” She stands. Ordinarily, Bellamy would stand too and shake her hand. But his cock is kind of hanging out right now, so he just leans forward to shake her hand instead.

Abby leaves, and Clarke crawls out from under the desk.

“You told my mom I have a crush on you,” she pouts. Bellamy tilts his head, amused.

“And you, you naughty little slut, were sucking my cock while she interrogated me,” he says. Clarke flushes. “What if she caught us, hm?”

“I couldn’t help it,” Clarke says. “I had to. I needed your cock in my mouth.”

“Course you did, sweetheart. Now I need you to finish the job before the last parent comes in. I’ve gotta come, baby. In your mouth or on your tits.”

Clarke gives a whimper, and then Bellamy is guiding her head back between his legs, onto his cock. He’s never felt something so divine as her warm mouth taking him in, her lips wrapped around him, his cock in her throat.

“That’s it, baby, so good. You’re so good at this already. Taking my whole cock. You practice on your dildo, sweetheart?”

“Mmhmm,” Clarke hums. Bellamy groans, his head rolling back. He strokes her hair with his hands, trying not to fuck her face.

“Clarke, I’m gonna come,” he says. Clarke hums against him again, her mouth at the base of his cock, the tip deep in her throat. He comes as she’s pulling off him, and she takes some of it in her mouth. She wraps a hand around his cock and aims it at her tits, taking the remainder of his seed on her chest.

“Fuck, fuck,” Bellamy groans as he comes. He collapses against his chair, spent. He looks down at Clarke, half naked, covered in come. Her pupils are blown, lips red and swollen. Damn, she wants to be fucked. She needs to be fucked hard and well.

“Look at you,” Bellamy coos. “All covered in my come. You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to,” Clarke says.

“Good,” Bellamy says. He leans down to kiss her, tasting his own semen on her tongue. There’s a knock on his door. The final parent of the night. “I need you to hide a little longer, baby,” he whispers. “Then I’ll lick your cunt like I promised.”

Clarke nods, shuffling back under the desk on her knees. Bellamy doesn’t bother putting his dick away.

“Come in!” he calls.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really thought i was going to break my promise of updating weekly already, but here it is!

According to the permission slips sent home to parents, the senior class trip to New York City is entirely educational. Bellamy and some of the other teachers had organised it upon Diyoza’s instruction, making sure the itinerary was full of things like the Museum of Natural History and a tour of Columbia University. Bellamy had wanted them to see Hamilton too, but they couldn’t get tickets, so they’re seeing Anastasia instead.

In between the planned events though, the girls have plenty of time to relax. Most of them are being worked into the ground by their parents and teachers, and even the upcoming Easter break will be filled with study and homework. Diyoza wants to give them one last hurrah with their school friends before they’re forced out into the real world.

But before they can enjoy the sights of New York City, they have to endure a four-hour bus ride. Bellamy is on first, taking a seat at the front of the bus, while Diana stands outside and counts the girls getting onto the bus, Indra recounts, and Dante chats to the bus driver.

Bellamy half hopes Clarke will sit next to him, while the other half of him knows it would be a terrible idea. Four hours of sitting next to her, without being able to touch her? What a slow and painful torture. It’s kind of a relief when Harper takes the seat beside him. Clarke catches his eye as she gets on the bus, scowling when she sees Harper sitting next to him. She takes the spare seat behind him instead. Bellamy is hyper aware of her, wishing she’d taken a seat at the back of the bus, to give him some respite from thinking about her for a few hours.

Indra is the last one on the bus, and as the bus driver pulls the bus out onto the road, Bellamy realises that Harper is speaking to him.

“Don’t you think, Mr Blake?” she asks.

Bellamy stares at her. “Sorry, Harper, I missed that. What did you say?”

“I said that we probably could have gotten Hamilton tickets if Principal Diyoza really cared about what we see. It’s not like our parents can’t afford it.”

“Some people are here on a scholarship, Harper,” Bellamy reminds her.

“Then the school should pay for them. I would much rather see Hamilton than Anastasia.”

“Well, me too, but I’m sure Anastasia will still be good.”

Harper nods and drops the subject. “What will you be doing in your free time Mr Blake?” she asks. “Raven and I want to go to Madame Tussauds. Maybe you could come with us?”

Bellamy tries to hide his amusement. It seems as if Clarke isn’t the only one with a crush on him. “We’ll see.”

Bellamy feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He glances at Harper, who is now preoccupied with talking to Maya across the aisle, before he reaches for it. He doesn’t get it out of his pocket before he hears Raven’s voice from a few seats back.

“Who the fuck is B?”

“Hey, give it back, Raven!” Clarke says. Bellamy turns to see Raven holding Clarke’s phone, holding Clarke back as Clarke tries to yank it out of her grasp.

“ _I don’t like her flirting with you,_ ” Raven reads aloud. Bellamy stands up.

“What’s going on, girls?” he says, deepening his voice into his most commanding teacher tone. Both girls look at him, Clarke looking anxious, her face red, Raven looking absolutely gleeful.

“I think Clarke has a boyfriend,” she snorts. It doesn’t take Bellamy long to figure out Clarke was the one who just texted him. And now Raven has her phone, with all his messages to and from Clarke right there to see.

“Give Clarke her phone back, Raven,” Bellamy says, trying not to betray his own anxiety. He can’t remember exactly what he’s sent to Clarke, or what she’s sent to him. Filthy, explicit things, he knows. But he has no idea if there is something in there that could expose his identity.

Raven ignores him and continues reading Clarke’s texts.

“Listen to this,” she snorts. “ _I’m so wet, I can’t stop thinking about you fucking me._ And here we all thought Clarke was a prude. Oh my god! This is what he sent back. _I’ll lick your cunt until you can’t think straight._ Holy fuck, Griffin,” Raven stares at Clarke. “Who the fuck is this guy? Did he make good on his promise?”

“That’s enough, Raven!” Bellamy snaps. “You’ll be spending your free time in your hotel room if you don’t give Clarke her phone back right now.” He hopes the girls put his red face down to anger rather than embarrassment. He’s relieved there were no clues to his identity in the messages Raven read out, but having his dirty messages broadcast like that has his pulse racing all the same. The girls seem none the wiser. They do, however, seem more interested in Clarke all of a sudden. Raven hands the phone back, but she doesn’t sit down.

“Sit down, Raven,” Bellamy says. Raven pouts, but she sinks into her seat. Bellamy watches as Raven presses her face to the gap between the two seats in front of her, so she can continue talking to Clarke.

“Seriously, Clarke,” she says, smirking. Harper has turned around too, and one of the other girls, Fox, has moved into the empty seat next to Clarke. “Who’s the guy? Someone from Arkadia Boys College?”

Bellamy sits, his stomach churning. He can’t stop them talking. He’s done as much as he can do, and if they want to ask Clarke about her supposed boyfriend, he has to let them, unless he hears it getting nasty. He keeps his ears pricked as he pulls out a book and pretends to read.

“Oh my god, is it Wells Jaha?” Fox asks.

“His name starts with B, idiot!” Raven says.

“Maybe B is a nickname. Short for babe or something.”

“It’s not Wells,” Clarke says. “I’d rather not say who it is.”

“Mysterious,” Harper says.

“Those messages were hot though,” Raven says, and Bellamy can hear the admiration in her voice. “Is he as good in person?”

“Do we have to talk about this with Mr Blake right there?” Clarke says.

“He’s not even listening, he’s reading a book,” Harper says. “Come on, give us the goss!”

Clarke has never been so popular with her classmates. Who knew all she had to do was get a sex life to be interesting to them? And while Bellamy is finding the whole situation kind of awkward, he’s also intrigued to find out what Clarke will say about him.

“Just tell us if he’s a good fuck,” Raven says.

“I mean… we haven’t had sex yet,” Clarke says. “But he’s really good at the other stuff. Like with his hands. And his mouth.”

“Damn girl,” Harper says. “I wish I had a boyfriend. The last guy I slept with was Jasper Jordan, and he was terrible.”

“I can hear you, you know!” Maya calls back to them. “And he’s not terrible!”

“He is,” Harper whispers.

“We don’t care about Jasper’s lack of sexual performance,” Raven says. “I want to know more about Clarke’s boyfriend.”

Bellamy’s stomach lurches. It’s odd to be referred to as her boyfriend, because he’s not really. He doesn’t really know what they are, but they’re definitely not in a relationship in the traditional sense. Yet, he can’t really say it’s _just sex_ either. Especially since they haven’t actually even had sex. He doesn’t know what they are. He’s not sure what he is to her, or what she is to him. Now is not the time to work that out.

“I like him a lot,” Clarke says. Bellamy feels his stomach flip again. She sounds so earnest, yet embarrassed to admit it. “I think about him all the time. He’s all I think about.”

“I think it’s love,” Harper sings.

“No,” Clarke says quickly. “Not love. Definitely not love.”

 

-

 

After checking into the hotel, the first item on the agenda is a lunch stop, and then the group takes the subway uptown to the Museum of Natural History for the afternoon. They girls have all been given worksheets to fill out while the explore the museum, but Bellamy thinks it will be lucky if even half of the questions get filled out. He can’t help but notice that Raven and Harper seem to have adopted Clarke into their group. It seems they’ve decided they like her now. Bellamy feels like he should be happy for her that she’s finally making friends, but at the same time he wonders if it’s wise to be friends with people who only like her because they’re interested in her sex life. Plus, he’s a little sulky that she’s walking around the museum with her new friends, instead of him. He’d imagined pulling her into a dark corner for a quick make out session, as if he’s a teenage boy on school trip with the girl he likes. Thinking about it, it’s probably best she stays away from him.

When they meet back at Theodore Roosevelt Park, Clarke hands Bellamy her worksheet proudly, and he can’t hold back his smile when he sees she’s filled the whole thing out.

“Do I get a reward for being the only person to complete the worksheet?” she asks.

“We’ll see,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

 

-

 

The next morning is the tour of Columbia, which Bellamy sees as pointless, since all of the girls have already done their university visits and picked where they want to go. Years ago, probably. Half of them at least will likely end up going to the same college their parents attended. Most of them will have no trouble getting into their top choice, or have any problems paying for it.

They have lunch on the campus grounds then take the train back to Times Square, where the teachers finally let the girls run wild. Bellamy notes Raven and Harper walking in what he assumes to be the direction of Madame Tussauds, Clarke in tow.

Bellamy checks the time on his phone. Three hours until they have to meet back at Times Square for dinner and then Anastasia. Diana and Dante have already fucked off somewhere else, and Indra has been roped into taking a photo for some pushy tourists. Bellamy decides to head to a bar for a much-needed drink or two. Not too many, since technically he’s still working.  All the girls have a sheet of paper with a list of all the teachers contact numbers, so if they get in trouble they can call. Bellamy hopes if they need someone, they’ll call someone else.

It’s easy to find a bar nearby, relatively empty at this time of the afternoon, and he sits down at the bar and orders a Jack and coke. His phone buzzes with a message from Clarke. A picture of her with her arms around a wax Carrie Underwood.

**_Jealous?_ **

He snorts out a laugh.

**_Of you or Carrie?_ **

**_Carrie of course. I just picked the first hot blonde I saw. I’m surprised you even know what Carrie Underwood looks like. Are you a closet country music fan?_ **

**_Before he Cheats is my jam_ **

He wants to send her a picture of what he’s doing too, but he knows she’s with Raven and Harper, and he doesn’t know if they’re looking over her shoulder, reading her texts. Sure, he could be in any bar, but he doesn’t want to tempt fate by giving out any possible clues to his identity, including the fact that he’s old enough to be drinking in a bar. Clarke texts back.

**_You’re so dumb_ **

Bellamy finds himself grinning at his phone. He’s not sure he’s ever been so happy to be called dumb before.

**_Stop texting me. Go and have fun._ **

**_Yes sir_ ** **_😉_ **

He drinks more than he means to. He knows he should probably make the most of being in New York, go and sight see or something, but instead he sits at the bar and downs eight drinks in two hours. He pays his bill and leaves the bar, needing some fresh air to sober up a little before he has to meet the others. His stroll takes him along 42nd street, and he pops into one of those gaudy souvenir shops, full of tacky “I heart NY” merchandise, with the idea of buying something for O and his mom.

He stops in the doorway when he spots Clarke between the shelves, talking to two guys, guys that have to be considerably older than she is. Raven and Harper are noticeably absent. Bellamy’s chest tightens. He overhears the conversation as he gets closer.

“How long are you in New York for, sweet thing?” one of the guys asks.

“Only a couple of days,” Clarke replies.

“That’s the perfect amount of time,” the other guy grins, every tooth in his mouth showing. Bellamy wants to knock them all out of the guy’s head. His hand curls into a fist.

“Oh?” Clarke says. “The perfect amount of time for what?” Bellamy can hear the flirtation in her voice. It only makes his temper rise.

“You know what, baby,” the second guy says. Clarke giggles. Bellamy has heard enough.

“She’s not your baby,” he growls. Clarke spins around and the guys look up from Clarke’s tits to look at Bellamy.

“And I suppose she’s yours?” the first guy sneers. Bellamy clenches his fist.

“Damn right she is. Leave her alone.”

The first guy looks like he’s ready to fight, but the other guy just shakes his head. “Whatever, man. Didn’t know she was taken. Chill.”

Bellamy glares at the guys until they’ve left the shop. He then turns his attention to Clarke.

“What were you thinking?” he says.

“I was only talking to them.”

“You know what those guys wanted to do to you, right?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says. “What I want you to do to me. What you won’t.”

Bellamy steps closer to her, so she has to tilt her head right back to look at his face. His hand slips under her top, and he grazes the skin of her stomach with his fingers. “You want those guys to fuck you, huh? You think they’d give it to you as good as I can? You want to give up your virginity to any random man who wants it?”

Clarke flushes. She shakes her head. “I only want you,” she admits.

“You sure? You sure you’re not a little slut, desperate for a fucking by anyone who’ll have you?”

“I’m _your_ slut,” she whispers. He wonders if she can see the flash of desire in his eyes when she says that.

“So why are you chatting up random fuck boys?”

“I saw you outside. I wanted to make you jealous.”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow at her. “Trying to make me jealous, huh? I think that deserves a punishment. It’s been a while since I’ve given you a good hard spanking. Maybe you need a reminder of what happens when you’re naughty.”

Clarke bites her lip. “Yes, Mr Blake.” Bellamy drops his hand to hers, gently prying her fingers from the Victoria’s Secret bag she’s holding and taking it from her. He’d spotted it as soon as he walked in, but only now does he allow himself to imagine what’s inside.

“What did you buy?” he asks. Clarke flushes. Bellamy’s cock throbs, already anticipating what he might find in the bag. He’s bold enough to assume that whatever it is, is for his benefit. He opens the bag and pulls aside layers of pink tissue paper to reveal some flimsy red lace.

“Raven and Harper saw me looking at them. There’s a matching bra in there too. They convinced me to buy them.”

“Is this for me?” Bellamy asks, his voice low. His cock is half hard by now, picturing Clarke in the red thong he’s holding. He’s never seen her in red.

Clarke nods. “It’s all for you.” Somehow, he senses she’s not just talking about the underwear, but before he can question her about it, she’s speaking again. “Did you mean what you said to those guys?”

“What?”

Clarke drops her voice even lower. “That I’m your baby.”

He leans in closer, pressing his body to hers. “Yes.”

He’s probably still drunk, and that’s why he thinks it’s a good idea to kiss her then. For too long, he knows. His lips lingering on hers, wanting to devour her further, but the sensible part of his brain kicks in and he pulls away. She chases him, but he steps back. He swallows, his heart thudding.

“Who are you sharing a room with?” Bellamy asks.

“Maya.”

“Think you can sneak out tonight?”

Clarke nods enthusiastically. “Yes.”

“Wear this,” Bellamy says, handing her the Victoria’s Secret bag. Clarke nods again. “You know which room is mine?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Bellamy pulls his phone out to check the time. “We should head back. We have dinner and a show to attend.”

“Can I sit next to you?”

“What about your new friends?”

“They only want to hear about my sex life.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That you make me come all the time. That you have a huge cock. That I can get you hard just by looking at you.”

Bellamy swallows. “You know that, huh?”

Clarke nods, her eyes all wide and innocent, but her smirk betrays her sinful side. She closes the gap between them and brings her hand to his crotch, cupping his cock and balls as best she can in her tiny hand. “You’re hard right now, aren’t you?” She palms his cock through his jeans and her jerks into her hand involuntarily, trying to keep his breathing steady. “I wish I could suck your cock right now.”

“Tonight,” Bellamy promises. If he can wait that long. He has half a mind to push her to her knees right now in the middle of the souvenir shop. Clarke removes her hand. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s head back to the steps.”

Clarke nods, following him out of the store. As they walk side by side, Bellamy finds himself wishing he could take her hand in his. He flexes his hand, trying to get rid of the urge. He knows he’s going to be jittery all through dinner and the musical, thinking about her coming to his room dressed in that red lingerie. Looking at Clarke now, lost in her own world, her pupils blown wide, he’s sure that’s the only thing she’ll be thinking of as well.


	14. Chapter 14

They stop briefly at the hotel before they go out for dinner, to give the girls a chance to get changed and freshen up. Clarke walks out in a skin-tight black dress, her hair all done up, deep red lipstick painted across her lips, making bedroom eyes at him. She looks so grown up. Bellamy wishes everyone else would disappear so it could just be the two of them, and he could take her out on proper date in New York City, and then take her back to his hotel room and fuck her senseless. Especially when she lets the strap of her dress slip off her shoulder to reveal a flash of red, letting him know she’s wearing the lingerie she bought earlier.

The girls are well behaved at dinner, and they’re all aware of proper theatre etiquette. Clarke manages to snag the seat next to Bellamy at the theatre, while he steadfastly stares at his playbill, pretending to read it. Out the corner of his eye he sees her dress ride up as she sits down, showing off an expanse of creamy white skin that Bellamy is desperate to get his hands on.

He barely pays attention to the musical. He keeps thinking about how he wants to put his hand on her thigh or between her legs. Or even just fucking interlock his fingers with hers. Trace circles on her palm with his thumb. His heart races at the thought of it. But he can’t. Not with Raven and Harper sitting a seat away. Sure, they’re focused on the stage now, but he can’t risk having them look over and glimpse him holding hands with Clarke. That doesn’t stop him thinking about it.

Diana and Dante lead the way back to the hotel through the bustling streets, Indra hovers somewhere in the middle, and Bellamy brings up the rear. Somewhere ahead of him a group of girls are singing Journey to the Past at the tops of their voices, interrupted occasionally by squeals and laughter. Clarke walks just in front of him, a step out of time with Raven and Harper, who appear to be having their own conversation without her. Bellamy’s eyes are glued to Clarke’s ass, accentuated by the tight dress she’s wearing. She glances back at him, as if she can sense him watching, then stops until he reaches her and she falls into step with him.

“Were you staring at my ass?” she asks, only just loud enough for him to hear.

“You know I was. That dress is sinful.”

“I can’t wait for you to see what’s under it.”

“Me too, baby. I’ve been thinking about it all night.”

Clarke bites her lip. Bellamy glances up at the group ahead of him, just as Raven and Harper look behind them, as if wondering where Clarke has gone. Maybe they really do want to be her friends now after all.

“Go and join your friends,” Bellamy says. “I’ll see you later tonight. Make sure Maya is asleep before you sneak out.”

Clarke nods, then skips ahead to catch up with Raven and Harper. Bellamy gives the other girls a smile, and both of them erupt into giggles. He can’t help but wonder if they were talking about him.

 

-

 

At 10pm, Bellamy and the other three teachers go around to all the girls’ hotel rooms to remind them that it’s time for lights out, that breakfast starts at seven, and the bus will be leaving at eight thirty, whether everyone is on the bus or not. That last part is Indra’s addition and not even slightly true, but it’s always been Indra’s teaching style to scare students into obeying her.

Bellamy’s anxiety levels are through the roof as he waits for Clarke to knock on his door. He almost texts her not to come, but then he thinks about the possibility of Raven reading the text and he decides that’s worse. Plus, he just really wants to see Clarke, to spend time with her while they don’t have to pretend they’re anything other than totally enamoured with one another.

It’s exactly 11:23pm when Clarke knocks on his door. He leaps off the bed and hurries to let her in, closing the door behind her before he even looks at her, terrified someone is going to catch them. He’s not sure why it feels so much more illicit in this random hotel in New York than back at school. If anything, it should be the other way around. Maybe it’s the thrill of being in a different city. Maybe it’s because he’s sure that none of the girls are actually asleep.

Bellamy turns to Clarke, waiting patiently for him to pay attention to her. Her hair is still up, and she’s still wearing that red lipstick. The black dress has been replaced with a black robe, and her feet are bare.

“Maya didn’t notice you leave?”

Clarke shakes her head. “She was snoring.” With this confirmation, Bellamy steps forward, with the intention of pulling on the tie that’s holding Clarke’s robe together, maybe pressing his mouth against hers, but she steps back, out of his reach. He tilts his head, questioning.

“I want to be in control tonight,” Clarke says. Bellamy’s cock twitches. He wants to tell her that she’s _always_ in control. He doesn’t think he’s been in control of this rollercoaster of a relationship for a single second.

“Okay,” he says. Clarke smiles, pleased. She takes him by the hands and pulls him towards the bed, keeping her eyes locked on his the whole time.

“Sit,” she says. Bellamy obeys, perching on the end of the bed. Clarke lets go of his hands and steps backwards. “Take your shirt off.” Bellamy pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. “Pants too. And boxers.” Bellamy stands so he can remove his pants, then sits back down naked.

“You’re not hard yet,” Clarke pouts, disappointed.

“I’m nearly there, sweetheart. Are you gonna show me what you’ve got on underneath that robe?”

Clarke nods, biting her lip. She lets the robe slip off her shoulder. She pulls on the tie that binds the robe together, holding it together until the last moment, when she lets the whole thing fall to the floor. Bellamy’s eyes fall heavy on her tits. Yeah, he’s definitely hard now.

The red lace is bright against her pale skin, and somehow it makes her eyes look brighter and her hair look blonder. He can see her nipples through the lace of her bra, pink and hard. Her pussy is just barely covered by a triangle of red lace. Red is definitely her colour.

“How do I look?” she asks, as if she doesn’t know she looks fucking amazing.

“You look gorgeous, baby. I can’t wait to get my hands on you,” Bellamy says. The satisfied smirk that graces Clarke’s face is insanely attractive.

“But first I want to put my mouth on you.”

Bellamy nods, holding his breath as she comes towards him. She stands between his legs, and his hands automatically rise up to her ass, his instinct to pull her close to him. But she bats his hands away.

“No touching,” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye. Bellamy gives her a pained look. All he wants to do is touch her. It’s all he’s been able to think about these past two days. And now he finally can and she won’t let him.

She kneels between his legs, looking up at him. With her wide blue eyes and her seductive smile on her red lips, she somehow manages to look like an innocent virgin and a wicked slut at the same time. She leans in and presses a kiss against his chest, leaving a lipstick mark when she pulls away. Bellamy can’t help but admire the red print of her lips against his brown skin. Clarke stares at it too, her lips parted, her pupils blown. There’s a hunger in the way she looks at him, and it gives him a dirty thrill.

She slides her hands up his thighs, then wraps a hand around the base of his cock. She kisses the tip, leaving the faint mark of her lipstick there too. His cock throbs. Clarke takes him into her mouth, about halfway, then presses her lips against him, holding there for a moment before pulling off again. He can see the satisfaction on her face at the ring of red lipstick she leaves. She’s barely got any on her own lips now, but she seems to like it better on him anyway.

“You like putting your mark on me, sweetheart?”

Clarke looks up from his cock to meet his eyes. “It looks good, doesn’t it?” she says. “Makes me feel like you’re mine.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy agrees. He wants to say more, but then she’s putting her mouth on him again, splaying her tongue against the head of his cock, licking up his precum, and all coherent thoughts leave his brain. He grips the mattress on either side of him, though what he really wants is to pull her hair out of its fancy updo and run his fingers through it.

She sucks his cock now like she’s been doing it for years. He’s amazed at how quickly she figured out what he likes. It only takes her a few minutes to bring him to the brink. It would be embarrassing if it were anyone else. It still is a little embarrassing. But he can tell she likes the effect she has on him, revels in her ability to drive him crazy, make him weak for her, make him come apart in her hands.

He comes in her mouth, still aching to put his hands on her. She swallows his come, then she reaches up to pull a few pins out of her hair, shaking it loose around her shoulders.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy groans. “How did you get so good at that, huh?”

“Just a natural I guess,” she says with a shrug and a cheeky smile.

“Come up here and kiss me, beautiful,” Bellamy says. Clarke surges up, Bellamy meeting her halfway, tasting his own semen on her tongue. He keeps his hands away from her, still obeying her earlier command.

“You can touch me now,” Clarke breathes.

“Thank god,” Bellamy groans. His hands fly from the bed to land on her lower back, and he pulls her towards him. She gets up off her knees and Bellamy crawls backwards, guiding her onto the bed with his hands. She crawls on top of him, kissing his chest, then up his neck and back to his lips. He loves how confident she is with him now, how she just does what she wants, and it doesn’t matter what she does because he’ll love it regardless. Bellamy fingers the lace of her bra, unable to decide if he wants it off or if he wants her to keep it on. She makes the decision for him, sitting up and reaching behind her to unclip it. Bellamy grips the lace between his fingers and pulls it from her chest, and his mouth is on her breast before he’s even dropped the bra.

He can feel himself getting hard again as he sucks her soft skin into his mouth, on her chest, just below her collarbone. If she can leave a mark on him, he wants to leave one on her too. A hickey might not be as easy to get rid of as a lipstick mark, but he can’t help himself. She moans, and Bellamy pulls her down so she’s straddling his lap, pressing his half hard cock against the wet lace of her thong.

He slips a hand between their bodies, tracing a finger along her thong where it slips between her pussy lips. She grinds down on him, and then he’s completely hard again, his cock jumping to attention. Fuck, he wants to be inside her so badly. It’s torture to have his cock so close to her dripping cunt, and not be able to just push her down onto the bed and fuck her.

He thinks he’d probably give in tonight, if she asked him. If she lay there naked in this hotel bed and begged him to fuck her, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have the self-control to say no.

But she doesn’t ask, and he’s not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse. Instead she lets him finger her to orgasm, and then she curls up on the bed beside him, still wearing just that lacy red thong. Bellamy wraps an arm around her, his cock still hard inside his boxers. He wonders if this is how he’s going to spend the rest of his life, constantly wanting her, no matter if he’s just had her only moments ago.

“I’m sorry about yesterday on the bus,” Clarke says. Bellamy gives her a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It wasn’t your fault. It was a close call, but we’re fine.”

“I—” Clarke swallows. “That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry about that too. But I was talking about how they kept calling you my boyfriend.”

Bellamy’s stomach swoops at that. “You didn’t tell them to call me that. And they don’t know any better.”

“I didn’t exactly correct them. I know it doesn’t matter what they think because they can never know it’s you anyway. But I know you were listening and I thought maybe it was weird for you.”

Bellamy turns his head to look at her. “It was a little weird,” he admits. “But not necessarily bad.” Clarke meets his eyes, biting her lip. Bellamy props himself up on his elbow, hovering over her. “Do you want me to be your boyfriend, Clarke?”

Bellamy admires the way her cheeks tinge with pink. “Maybe a little,” she admits. “I know it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” Bellamy assures her. “I’ll be your boyfriend if you want me to be.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Clarke says. “I can’t call you my boyfriend to anyone else, so what difference does it make? No one will know.”

“But we’ll know.”

Clarke nods. “Okay.” Bellamy smiles, and he presses a gentle kiss on her lips. “You know the worst thing about not being able to tell anyone about us?”

“What’s that?”

“Raven and Harper would kill me if they found out I told you. But they go on and on about how hot you are _all_ the time, from what I’ve gathered over the last couple of days. Harper is the worst. She seriously pines after you.”

Bellamy laughs. “Poor girl.”

“I just keep imagining how they’d react if they knew you were mine.”

“They’d be insanely jealous, I’m sure. Is that what you want?”

“Uh huh.” She falls silent for a moment, and he thinks she might be imagining that exact scenario playing out. But then she says, “Since you’re my boyfriend now, does that mean I can tell you all about my day?”

Bellamy laughs, a deep rumble in his chest. “You could have done that before. But go ahead.”

Clarke launches into her story, starting with breakfast and not missing out a single detail. Bellamy listens, affection growing in his chest. He ignores the small twinge of doubt in his gut, telling him it’s a stupid idea to let Clarke call him her boyfriend. Maybe he’s a little too romantic. He knows with certainty that this can never be more than it is, that even once she graduates, they’d have to wait years to let anyone know about their relationship, and even then, there would be whispers of judgement, wondering when it started, if he was lusting after her while she was his student. Her mother would never accept him.

But like she said, what difference does it make? If it makes her happy to think of him as her boyfriend, then he’s happy to be that for her. And if while he’s lying there, he lets himself consider for a moment that that makes her his girlfriend, and it makes his heart flip over in his chest, well then that’s no one’s business but his own.

 

-

 

Bellamy wakes to someone banging furiously on the door. He glances at Clarke beside him, her eyes opening as the noise wakes her too. He has a brief moment of what feels like domestic bliss, before Indra starts yelling through the door.

“Blake!” Indra’s voice comes. “Breakfast is nearly over. Everyone needs to be downstairs at the bus in fifteen minutes, and that includes you!”

Panic swirls in his chest as he jerks upright. Clarke sits up too, her eyes wide with fear. They weren’t supposed to fall asleep. She was supposed to go back to her room before anyone noticed she was gone.

“Fuck,” Bellamy says, jumping out of bed. He grabs Clarke’s bra from the floor and tosses it at her, then pulls on his pants from yesterday.

“What are we going to do?” Clarke asks, putting her bra on. She gets out of bed and hurries to throw her robe back on over her underwear. Bellamy glances at her. Her hair and make up are a mess. She looks like a girl who didn’t sleep in her own room last night.

“We’ll have to check the hallway is clear before you go out,” Bellamy says. It’s the best he can think of. He keeps his voice calm and even. He doesn’t want to let Clarke know how anxious he feels. That part of him is sure this is it, they’re done for.

Maybe if Clarke wasn’t dressed like _that_ they could have come up with some other excuse as to why she was in his room this morning. Maybe if her classmates weren’t interested in her love life, if they didn’t know she has a boyfriend whose name starts with B. Bellamy can’t take the risk that anyone who sees Clarke walk out of his room won’t put it all together. He’ll lose his job, he’ll lose Clarke. He could even go to prison for this, he thinks, though he hasn’t technically fucked her. He doubts the law would see it that way.

He pulls on a shirt and heads for the door, beckoning Clarke over. She stands behind him as he peeks out. He can see Indra walking away, but apart from that the hallway is empty. He opens the door, praying for Indra not to turn around. Clarke steps out into the hall and Bellamy shuts the door, then immediately collapses against it, his heart beating rapidly. He feels guilty for leaving Clarke out there alone like that, but to go out there with her would only make it worse for both of them. He hopes she can make it back to her room without being noticed. And if she is noticed, she’ll hopefully be able to come up with an excuse as to why she’s in the hallway in her underwear.

Bellamy packs his things, still feeling sick. They might be in the clear, but maybe not. They’d come way too close to being caught this time, and he’s starting to feel the heat. Yet he can’t bring himself to even think about ending it with her, though he knows that’s the logical thing to do. She’d be so hurt if he ended it now, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt her.

He has thought a little about how this ends. The best and the worst case scenario. Worst case is she realises he’s too old for her, her teacher, a creep, and tells her mom or Diyoza, and then he goes to prison. He doesn’t really think that will happen.

He’s pretty sure what will actually happen is that in a few months, after she’s graduated, after he’s fucked her, she’ll go off to college and forget all about him. She’ll probably regard the whole thing as one big mistake, although he hopes she won’t be psychologically damaged somehow by their relationship. She’ll go on with her life, and he’ll go on with his, and he’ll probably think about her way too often, much more often than she’ll think about him.

That’s the best and most likely scenario. And he thinks he can live with that. He doesn’t dare think that he could have more than that, because anything else is just a ridiculous fantasy. He’s not going to torture himself with dreams that can never come true. He knows this story doesn’t get a happy ending. He just hopes it doesn’t have a tragic one.


	15. Chapter 15

Bellamy gets to the bus ten minutes before 8:30, when it’s scheduled to leave. Clarke isn’t there yet. The bus won’t leave without her, despite Indra’s threats the night before, but he isn’t going to feel at ease until she’s there, and he’s sure they’re in the clear. Indra won’t let anyone on the bus until she’s sure everyone is there.

“Where is Clarke anyway?” Raven says. “I didn’t see her at breakfast.”

“All I know is she’s holding everyone up,” Indra grumbles.

“She wasn’t in our room this morning,” Maya says. “I thought she must have gone to breakfast but then she wasn’t there either.”

Bellamy’s heart pounds, and he tries not to look guilty. He wants to come to Clarke’s defence, come up with an excuse for her. But that would just look way too suspicious.

She makes it to the bus at exactly 8:29, carrying her suitcase. She’s brushed her hair back into a ponytail and removed her make-up, erasing all signs of a night spent in someone else’s room.

“Cutting it close, Clarke,” Indra says, disapprovingly. “Why weren’t you at breakfast?”

She doesn’t look at Bellamy, to her credit. In fact, she seems to have her excuse neatly prepared, and she answers with no hesitation. “I got up early and went to check out the hotel pool. I lost track of time.”

Indra eyes her disapprovingly, but since they’d never actually told the students the pool was off limits, she can’t exactly get Clarke in any trouble. “Fine,” she says. “Everyone on the bus.”

Clarke looks to Bellamy then, and grins at him. The tension in his shoulders finally leaves him, and he manages a small smile in return. She really saved his ass with that excuse. In the clear yet again, Bellamy boards the bus and prepares for another four hours of listening to the idle chatter of a busload of teenage girls.

 

-

 

They arrive back at school at lunch, and while the teachers who went on the excursion are given the rest of the day off, the girls are expected to return to class for the afternoon. Bellamy texts Clarke to come and see him after school. They should probably talk about what happened.

She comes to his office right after class, when the hallways are bustling with students. He’s still not completely over their most recent close call, so he doesn’t move to kiss her, just lets her shut the door and take the seat across from him, like she really is just some random student.

“Everything okay?” he asks. “No one suspects anything?”

Clarke shakes her head. “Raven was just annoyed she hadn’t thought to go to the pool as well.”

“That was some quick thinking.”

Clarke shrugs modestly. “Is everything okay with you?” she asks. “You’re not… having second thoughts, are you?” Bellamy shakes his head, but his mouth twists, betraying his reservations. Hurt crosses Clarke’s face. “Please don’t break up with me.”

He reaches for her hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of it to comfort her. “I’m not breaking up with you. But we need to be extra careful now. Especially since Raven and Harper know you have a boyfriend now, and you seem to be spending more time with them.”

“I don’t know about that,” Clarke snorts.

“I don’t think I can handle another close call like that.”

“So…” Clarke bites her lip. “What are you saying?”

“It’s a week until Easter break, then we have a week off school. Let’s just use these two weeks to cool off a little, okay? Only text me if you really need to. And we’ll limit our time together as much as possible.” Clarke pouts. “Clarke,” Bellamy says exasperatedly.

“Fine,” she sighs. “It’s only two weeks. I can totally handle that.”

“Me too,” Bellamy agrees. He’s not sure either of them are convinced.

“I guess I should go then,” Clarke says.

Bellamy nods. “Yeah.”

Clarke gets up, loosening her hand from his, but Bellamy doesn’t let go. Clarke pauses, raising an eyebrow at him. He’s the one saying they need to cool off, after all. He reluctantly drops her hand, and Clarke leans over the desk to kiss him.

“I’ll miss you,” she says.

“You’ll still see me.”

“I’ll still miss you,” she grins. “By the way, I won’t be in class on Monday. I having my driving test.”

Bellamy smirks. “You can’t drive yet?”

“I _can_ drive,” Clarke huffs. “I just don’t have my license yet.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

Clarke blows him a kiss before she leaves his office.

 

-

 

Clarke texts him after school on Monday, to tell him how she went on her driving test. Bellamy reasons that’s worth breaking the no texting rule for.

**_I passed!_ **

Despite the rule, Bellamy can’t help himself from texting back. It would be rude if he didn’t.

**_Congrats, sweetheart. I knew you would._ **

**_And my mom bought me a car._ **

Bellamy rolls his eyes at that, though he’s smiling to himself as he reads it, completely distracted from the lesson plan he’s been working on.

**_God, you’re spoilt_ ** he texts back. Maybe one day he’ll have enough money to spoil her too.

**_I know. Also Raven and Harper saw Roan pick me up for my driving test, and now they think he’s my boyfriend. I didn’t let them think different._ **

**_What does this Roan look like and how old is he?_ **

**_You know you don’t have to be jealous, right? He’s not actually my boyfriend. You are._ **

Okay, yeah, he knows that. But his chest gets all stupidly tight when he thinks about her with someone else, even if it’s not real. Apparently she can tell, even through text.

**_I know that. Are Raven and Harper suitably jealous of your fake boyfriend?_ **

**_Not as jealous as if they knew the truth. But it will do._ **

**_Make sure you delete these texts in case someone looks at your phone._ **

****

-

 

Somehow, this time it’s even harder to be without her than the last time he tried to keep his distance from her. Before, his cock was constantly hard and his balls ached. This time it’s a whole new kind of torture.

Sure, he’s still horny as hell, thinking about her constantly, wanting to masturbate but knowing he’s still not allowed to. But now, not only does his cock ache, but his chest does too. It’s not just sexual frustration he feels, but _longing_. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, and he hates it. All he wants to do is be with her, but even with their newfound cover of Roan supposedly being Clarke’s boyfriend, Bellamy is still wary of spending too much time with her. They’ve been careless so far, and somehow incredibly lucky that they haven’t been caught. Bellamy knows the consequences of his actions. He’d rather not have to face them if he doesn’t have to.

So he continues to keep his distance, and Clarke does the same, although he catches her staring at him in class a few times when she’s supposed to be working.

He loads the students up with homework for the Easter break, because that’s what the parents and the school expect of him, even though the break is only a week long and half of his students will probably be jetting off to Europe or something for the week. He realises he has no idea what Clarke’s plans are, only that she won’t be at school. All boarders are required to leave for the week, because the staff have the week off too and they can’t guarantee anyone will be there to look after the students.

Bellamy’s plan is to drive home on Friday night and spend the break with his family, though he knows he’ll have work to do as well.

It pours rain on Friday afternoon. It’s so heavy, Bellamy can barely hear himself talk in his last class of the day, and it doesn’t look like it’s letting up soon. His car is unreliable at the best of times, let alone in this kind of weather, so he decides to wait until the weather is better to drive home. It’s not worth hydroplaning and crashing into a paddock or something on the way home.

He bumps into Diyoza on his way back to his room from class.

“You heading home for the break, Bellamy?” she asks him. She’s got her umbrella tucked under her arm, obviously ready to brave the storm.

“Yeah, I think I’ll wait until tomorrow now though. I don’t love the idea of being out in that weather.”

“Traffic is going to be a nightmare,” Diyoza grimaces. “But I have to go and pick up Hope from McCreary. I think everyone else is eager to get out of here too. Indra left at lunch.”

“Slacker,” Bellamy grins. “Well, have a good break.”

“You too,” Diyoza says. They give each other a short nod and Diyoza heads towards the exit, while Bellamy continues on to his room. He practically throws his laptop and books onto his desk, before pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He pulls the grey curtain open, and looks down at the even greyer scene outside. He can see the carpark from here, and he watches students and teachers alike rush about in the rain, until his is the only car left in the carpark.

He finishes his drink and pours himself another one, then he gets his laptop and settles onto his bed, opening Netflix and scrolling through his to watch list three times before deciding on something he’s already watched before. Ten minutes into the movie, his phone rings. His heart skitters when he sees that it’s Clarke.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he answers.

“Bellamy,” Clarke says, though it’s barely comprehensible through her sobs. Bellamy jolts upright.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay,” she says. She doesn’t _sound_ okay. She takes deep breath.

“Clarke, baby, what’s happened? What’s wrong?” His heart is racing, panicking, his mind going through all the worst possible scenarios.

“Can you come and get me?” Clarke says. She seems to have calmed down a little, but her voice still sounds watery and shaky. “I was driving home and someone tried to pass me, but there was someone coming the other way and they ran me off the road. Now my car is stuck in the mud.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says. “Okay, I’m coming. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

It’s still pouring outside, but Bellamy isn’t really thinking about that. He jumps into action, and almost forgets to put on shoes before he leaves. He runs out into the rain and to his car, already soaked before he gets the door unlocked. His car starts, thankfully.

The rain is so heavy, the sky so dark, that his headlights and windscreen wipers are near useless. He hates the thought of Clarke being out in this weather. If he’d known she was driving herself, he’d have tried to stop her. He’s annoyed at himself for not asking what her plans were.

He drives for half an hour before he spots a car on the side of the road, hazard lights flashing. He pulls up next to her, checking to make sure there are no other cars around before he gets out onto the road. He hurries around the car just as Clarke is getting out of hers, and he pulls her into his arms tightly.

“You’re okay,” he says. He couldn’t be sure until he saw her, and he’s relieved now that he can confirm she’s unhurt, if a little shaken. “Come on,” he says, aware that they’re standing in the pouring rain. He opens the passenger door for her and she gets in, clothes and hair already soaking wet. Bellamy gets back into the car and starts it. He glances at Clarke, and she’s still looking a little stunned. She shivers. Bellamy reaches for her, encasing her hand in his and giving her a reassuring squeeze.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks. Clarke nods.

“I’m okay,” she says. “It just freaked me out a lot. And my car…” she glances at it. “I’ve only had my license a few days. Maybe they shouldn’t have given it to me.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Bellamy assures her. “People shouldn’t be driving like that in this weather. And they should have stopped to check if you were okay.” Clarke nods. “We can come and get your car in the morning, once it’s stopped raining. It will be okay.”

“Okay.”

“How far away do you live? Do you want me to take you home or back to school with me?”

“With you.”

 

 

-

 

By the time they get back to school, the rain has slowed to a steady shower. Bellamy takes Clarke’s hand as he leads her back inside. There’s supposed to be security on the grounds somewhere, but Bellamy is sure they’re probably taking shelter somewhere, not walking around in the rain.

“Can I stay in your room?” Clarke asks, once they’re back inside out of the rain.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Bellamy says. He’d never even considered sending her back to her own room alone. He only lets go of her hand so he can unlock the door to his room.

“You want to take a shower?” he asks. “Get out of your wet clothes?” Clarke nods. “There are towels in the bathroom,” he tells her. Clarke nods again, and Bellamy watches her walk into the bathroom and shut the door. Once he hears the shower running, he peels off his own wet clothes and pulls on a fresh shirt and pair of boxers.

He’s not sure what else to do then, other than wait for Clarke, so he grabs his book from beside his bed and tries to read it. He reads the same line about seven times before he gives up and puts the book down, deciding to scroll through Facebook on his phone instead. All he can think about his Clarke, naked in his shower. If he thought he could control himself he’d get in there with her. But after her scare he’s pretty sure the last thing she needs is him groping her while she’s just trying to relax.

Eventually he hears the water shut off, and it becomes clear it’s still raining outside. A few minutes later Clarke walks out, wrapped in a towel, her hair wet from the shower, messy from her having tried to towel dry it. Her cheeks are pink and rosy. She looks considerably refreshed.

“I used your shampoo,” she says. “And your body wash. I smell like you now,” she smiles. Bellamy smiles back, amused.

“Okay,” he says. “You feeling better?”

Clarke nods. “What can I wear?”

“Whatever you like,” Bellamy says, gesturing to his closet. Clarke goes over to the closet and opens it, sifting through the few shirts he has hung up. She pulls out a navy button up.

“How about this?” she asks.

“Sure.”

Clarke drops the towel, and Bellamy’s eyes drop to her naked body. She smirks at him. He’s already half hard from thinking about her in the shower, and now his cock springs to full attention. She shrugs the shirt on and buttons it up slowly, leaving the top three buttons undone. It covers her ass, but only just. Seeing her dressed in only his shirt gives him heart palpitations. He half wants to rip it off her, half wants her to never take it off.

“Do you have a comb or something?”

“In the bathroom.”

Clarke disappears into the bathroom again and reappears with a comb. She crawls onto the bed next to him and hands him the comb, before turning her back to him. Bellamy sits up, understanding that he’s to comb her hair for her.

“You normally have a maid do your hair or something?” he jokes. He grabs a section of hair and starts gently combing through it, starting from the bottom. Yeah, he knows how to do this.

“Very funny. I just like having my hair touched.” Bellamy is pretty sure she just likes being touched in general, but he doesn’t say it out loud. It’s not like it’s a hardship, touching her.

He combs through her hair in silence for a few minutes before Clarke speaks again.

“Is it okay that I called you?” she asks. “I know you said we shouldn’t see each other—”

“Of course it’s okay,” Bellamy says. “Never feel like you can’t call me if you need me.”

“Okay.”

Bellamy combs her hair to one side, then presses a kiss to her shoulder. She smells a little like him, in his shirt, after using his shampoo and his body wash. But she still smells like Clarke too, a soft sweet smell that makes his stomach swoop. “You are so important to me,” he says. “I want you to know that.”

“Okay,” Clarke says again, quieter this time, almost like she doesn’t quite believe him.

“I’m done,” Bellamy says, putting the comb on his nightstand. Clarke runs her fingers through her hair, shaking it out so it hangs loose around her shoulders. It’s already starting to dry.

Clarke swivels around to look at Bellamy. “Thanks,” she says.

“Come here,” he says, putting his arms around her, tugging her in close before lying back against the pillows, pulling her down with him so she’s lying on his chest. He’s still hard as fuck but he’s trying to ignore it.

“Bellamy?”

“Mmm?”

“What do you like about me?”

“I like everything about you.”

“You do not.”

“I do,” Bellamy laughs. “But you want me to be specific?”

“Could you?”

“Okay.” He shifts, so that he’s on top of her now, so he can look into her eyes as he tells her. “You’re smart, and hard working. You’re a little bit rebellious. Stubborn. Kind, funny. Brilliant.”

“Do you really think all that?”

“How could you think I don’t?” Bellamy says. He brushes a strand of hair from her face with his fingertips. “And of course, I think you’re beautiful, but you already know that.”

Clarke screws up her nose. “You can say it whenever you want to, though.” Bellamy traces her bottom lip with his thumb. “Kiss me,” Clarke says, breathless. Bellamy captures her lips with his, and she arches against him, pressing her tits against his chest. He pushes his tongue into her mouth, while his hand grips her thigh tightly. She kisses him back fervently, making up for their week of being apart.

“I missed you so much this week,” Clarke says. “I wanted to touch myself so bad. I nearly fingered myself in your shower just now.”

“I missed you too, baby,” Bellamy says. “I’m gonna make you come, don’t worry.” He undoes the buttons on the shirt she’s wearing, slowly, his lips following his hand, pressing wet kisses on her breasts, down her stomach, on her bare pussy. “Shirt off,” Bellamy says, and Clarke sits up so she can remove the shirt completely, while Bellamy pulls his own shirt over his head.

Clarke lies back down, and Bellamy drops his head between her legs, gently kissing her inner thigh. He moves away from her pussy, kissing back down her thigh, then pressing his lips against her stomach again. He kisses her everywhere, her neck, her shoulder, her tits, her stomach, her thighs, until she’s trembling and squirming beneath him, desperate for more.

“Bell,” she whines. “Bell, I need you. I need you.”

Bellamy presses his mouth to her slit, the smell of her arousal filling his nostrils. He can taste her on his tongue, her juices dripping out of her.

“You’re so wet, baby,” Bellamy murmurs. “You want to come so bad, don’t you?”

Clarke nods, whimpering. God, he wants to put his cock inside her. She wants it too, wants to be fucked by him, wants him to fill her virgin pussy with his cock.

He works his way up to her mouth again, kissing her hungrily. His hard cock presses against her thigh, and she moves her hand between them, palming his erection through his boxers, making him groan out loud. His cock throbs badly. A week without her mouth on his cock has made him more desperate than ever.  

He shifts slightly, so his cock is pressed against her slit, her arousal dampening his boxers. She lifts her hips, grinding against him, and his heart speeds up as his cock jumps.

“Fuck,” Bellamy grunts. “Fuck, fuck.”

Clarke toys with his waistband, sliding her hand into his boxers, as if he won’t notice. He grabs her wrist and yanks her hand away, pinning her arm above her head, and then the other one, making her gasp. He locks eyes with her. Her pupils are blown wide, her lips a pink and swollen. He glances down her body at her hardened nipples, straining towards him, her wet pussy, her legs spread wide. He has her at his mercy, and his cock knows it.

“Fuck me,” she whispers huskily. “Fuck me, please. I can’t wait any longer.”

“You want my cock inside you?”

“Uh huh.”

“Say it, baby. Tell me how much you want it.”

“I want your cock inside me. I need it. Fill me. Take my virginity. _Please_.”

“Okay,” he says. Clarke’s mouth drops open, and she lets out a small moan.

“Really?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I gotta have you. I can’t wait any longer either.” He let’s go of her arms and sits up, shedding his boxers. Clarke watches him, eyes wide. He goes back to her, kissing her cheek, then her lips. “You sure you want this?”

“More than anything.”

“You still on the pill?”

“Yes.”

Bellamy kisses her again. “Promise you’ll tell me the moment you feel uncomfortable. If you want me to stop, tell me. If it hurts, tell me. I want this to be good for you.”

“Okay.”

Bellamy’s lips trace the skin on her shoulder as he presses his cock against her slit. She’s absolutely sopping, and it’s easy to get his cock slick and wet, ready for her. He lines the head of his cock up with her entrance. She whimpers.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yes.” He pushes in, just the tip. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” He pushes in a little further, and she breathes in a shaky breath.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re so tight, baby. You feel so good.” He pushes into her further, and he has his cock halfway inside her. She’s trembling, her breathing uneven.

“It’s too big,” she says, her voice shaky.

“Am I hurting you?” She shakes her head. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“You don’t have to take the whole thing.”

“I want to. I want it all in me. Keep going.”

Bellamy inches his cock into her. It takes all his self-control not to just slam into her virgin cunt. She’s so warm and tight around him, her sweet pussy gripping him, drawing him further into her, until he’s completely sheathed in her.

He has to pause to take a breath, because he’s holding back, and it aches, but also because, _holy fuck, he’s inside her_.

“Fuck, Clarke,” he says. “You feel so perfect. Fuck. I want to fuck you. How does my cock feel inside you, huh?”

“So good,” she moans. “It’s so big. My pussy… it’s so stretched. I’m so full. I need to come, please. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

“God, baby,” Bellamy groans. She’s gripping him so tightly that it’s hard to slide his cock out of her even a little. “I can’t believe I’m the first one who gets to fuck you. The only one. Wish I could tell everyone. Want everyone to know I got to fuck your pretty little virgin pussy. Want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“Me too,” Clarke says. “I want everyone to know that you’re mine too.”

“I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you,” Bellamy says. “I want you to know that.”

“I’ve never wanted anyone except you,” Clarke says. Bellamy’s heart lurches, and his cock twitches inside her.

“I’m going to fuck you properly now,” he whispers. “Don’t stay quiet.” He thrusts into her, and she cries out.

“Yes,” she moans. “Fuck me. Don’t stop.”

With her words and moans spurring him on, Bellamy fucks her. He tries to be gentle with her, but he’s so desperate, and he’s wanted this so long. She urges him on though, begging for his cock the whole time he fucks her. When she comes, it’s the sweetest pleasure Bellamy has ever felt. She cries his name, clutches him tightly, writhes against him. Her come coats his cock, making her cunt even wetter, and as he continues to thrust into her through her orgasm, she comes again. Her second orgasm sends him over the edge.

“I’m coming, baby. I’m coming in your pussy.” He can’t remember the last time he fucked a woman without a condom, and it feels so satisfying to fill her up with his come. He grunts out his last burst of energy as he orgasms, then collapses on top of her. He rolls to the side, not wanting to crush her with his weight, and she curls into him, head on his chest.

“You okay?” Bellamy asks, wrapping his arm around her.

“More than okay,” Clarke says. He can hear the content smile on her face. “I’m glad you were my first.”

“Me too.”

“I can feel your come in me.”

“I hope it’s okay that I did that,” Bellamy says. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“It’s okay. I wanted it. I want your come inside me always. I want you to fuck me all the time. I want you to fuck me in your office. In your car. In your shower.”

Bellamy smirks. “You really are a little slut, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“Only for you.”

“Well,” Bellamy muses. “If you give me a few minutes, I think we can manage your shower fantasy.”

“Yeah?”

Bellamy laughs. He pulls her tighter. “You go and get it warmed up for me.”

Clarke scoots out of bed eagerly, and Bellamy watches her bare ass as she walks towards the bathroom. He gets out of bed and glances out the window. It’s even darker outside now, and the rain seems to have slowed to a drizzle. He closes the curtain and makes for the bathroom, where he can hear the water running, and Clarke singing to herself. He pauses at the door.

He finally broke all his own promises to himself. He can’t even bring himself to feel the least bit guilty. Not when he made her so happy, and he feels so content.

The feeling in his chest has changed now, from longing to—well he’s not sure exactly what it’s changed to. Something a little stronger than desire. But he’s not quite sure he’s ready to put a name to it just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bleaugh I'm sorry. I spent so long building up to this and now I feel like it's not that great. I hope it's not too disappointing.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i didn't update when i was supposed to! this chapter was orginally 6k words long so i've decided to split it in two and i'll post the next part on sunday!

Bellamy doesn’t think he’s ever woken up feeling so content. Clarke is lying naked beside him on her stomach, still asleep. Sun creeps in through the crack between the curtain and the window, bathing the room in a soft golden light. He has nowhere to be. No one to come knocking on the door. No threat of exposure. He watches Clarke sleep, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, and something else tugging on his heartstrings.

It’s only a couple of minutes before Clarke’s eyes flutter open, and she smiles at him, a dreamy look on her face.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” she replies, voice husky from sleep.

“You sleep okay?”

“Uh huh.” She rolls over onto her back, wincing as she does so.

“You okay?”

“It hurts,” she says. “It didn’t hurt last night but it hurts now.”

Bellamy presses a kiss to her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have been more careful. You’ve never had anything that big inside you before.”

“It’s okay,” Clarke says. “I wanted it. And I kind of like the reminder of how your cock felt inside me.”

His cock stirs again now at the mention of being inside her, and he curses himself inwardly for his lack of decorum. He can’t fuck her while her pussy still hurts.

“It might take a couple of days for it to stop hurting completely.”

“That sucks, because I really want you to fuck me again.”

Bellamy groans. “There’s plenty of time for that. We should go and get your car. Hopefully we won’t need to get it towed.”

“Can I keep your shirt?”

“What if someone finds it?”

“It’s not like anyone will know it’s yours. It’s just a random navy shirt.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says, giving in. “Now let’s get you dressed, okay?”

 

-

 

The week away from her is absolute torture. Now that he knows what it’s like to fuck her, he just wants to do it over and over and over. They keep their contact to a minimum over the Easter break, and Bellamy is sure he’s never missed anyone half as much as he misses Clarke. Still, it’s nice to be able to spend some time with his mom and sister. He wishes he could tell them about Clarke. He’d like to tell everyone about Clarke.

Though it seems to drag on, the week finally ends, and then he’s back at school again and it feels like he never had a break at all. But it’s only a couple more months until the summer, and then he can truly relax. He just has to not think about the fact that come summer, this thing with Clarke will be over. He’s not ready to let her go yet.

She comes to see him in his office before school on Monday, and she practically hurls herself at him as soon as the door is shut behind her, jumping into his arms and wrapping her legs around him so he stumbles back against the desk. Her arms are tight around his neck, her mouth hot against his, kissing him messily.

“Someone missed me,” Bellamy laughs, as best he can with her tongue in his mouth. Clarke moans, and her kisses turn more languid, gently teasing his mouth with her tongue. She pulls away but doesn’t let go.

“Didn’t you miss me?”

“Of course I did.”

Clarke smiles, then drops her feet to the floor. “I made you something,” she says. Her arms fall from her neck and he realises she’s holding several sheets of paper. “They’re only rough,” she says, handing them to him. He takes the pages from her hands, eyeing her nervous expression. He looks down at the paper and his heart stops. It’s _him_. Undoubtably. Just a sketch, but it’s a true likeness. His dark curls, his freckles, the scar on his lip.

“Wow,” he says, lump forming in his throat. “This is amazing. You drew this?” Clarke nods bashfully, chewing her lip. “Are you going to study art at college?”

“I want to.”

Bellamy looks back at the picture. He really is astounded at how good it is. He shouldn’t be, it’s just that no one has ever done something like this for him before. Unless you count Octavia’s scribbles when she was a child, which he can’t really.

“Look at the others,” Clarke says. Bellamy lifts the first page to look at the second drawing.

“Is that—” he swallows.

“Your cock? Yes.”

Bellamy can feel himself blushing. “You drew this from memory?”

“Trust me, I’m never going to forget what your cock looks like.”

Bellamy blushes even harder. He hopes she doesn’t notice. He lifts the picture of his cock, hoping the last picture will bring his heartrate back down. It does not.

“It might be a little off,” Clarke says hurriedly. “I don’t really know what I look like when I—”

“Like this,” Bellamy swallows. The sketch is of the two of them, Bellamy on top of her, naked, and Clarke’s face contorted as if mid orgasm. The sight of it sends blood rushing to his cock. “Fucking hell,” he breathes. “You are so talented. And I am so horny.”

“Me too.”

Bellamy glances up at the clock on the wall. “We don’t have time,” he says.

“Come to my room tonight” Clarke whispers. “It will look less suspicious if you’re caught in the halls than if I am.”

“Okay,” Bellamy agrees, stomach flipping at the thought of being in her room. “Do you want these back, or—”

“You can keep them. I drew them for you.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later. I—” he stops, not sure what he was going to say next. “I’ll see you later,” he repeats. Clarke pulls him in for another kiss before she skips off the class. Bellamy hides the sketches in a drawer, buried underneath a stack of other paper.

 

-

 

He checks the night duty schedule three times before he sneaks out, making sure there will be no one around when he goes to see Clarke. His heart beats like the wings of a hummingbird, threatening to fly out of his chest. It’s exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

He knocks on her door.

“Who is it?” she calls.

“Bellamy,” he replies gruffly.

“Come in,” she says, and Bellamy opens the door. His eyes fall onto the bed, where she’s lying naked, waiting for him. He closes the door behind him, air knocked out of his lungs.

“Clarke,” he breathes.

She sits up. “What took you so long?”

“I’m so sorry,” he says. He’s at her side in two paces, then he’s sitting down beside her on the bed, drawing her lips to his. His hands span across her bare back as he tries to cover as much of her in him as her can.

“I hate to be away from you,” Clarke whispers. “I almost thought you weren’t coming.”

“Sweetheart,” Bellamy coos. “I’d never abandon you like that. But to think of you waiting for me, naked and wet… I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a turn on.”

“How do you know I’m wet?”

“I just know, baby. Same way you know my cock is aching for you. I’m so hard for you.”

“So fuck me already.”

He kisses her hard, his tongue rough in her mouth. His shirt comes off, and then the rest of his clothes. He fucks her with her legs wrapped around him, desperately pulling him closer, while he tries to restrain himself from coming too soon. The feel of her tight cunt still has him dizzy with lust. He murmurs soft words of praise into her hair as he fucks her, telling her how good she is, how she belongs to him, that she’s beautiful and perfect. It’s overwhelming, how good she feels. How much he wants her. He wants to come so badly, yet somehow, he doesn’t want this to ever end. He’d like to stay wrapped up in her forever.

It does end though, and he makes her come once before he comes himself, burying his cock in her pussy and his head into her shoulder as he comes apart. Then, even though he’s barely caught his breath, he makes her come again with his mouth between her thighs, his own come and hers dripping onto his tongue. When he’s hard again, he fucks her for a second time for good measure. She comes twice before he fills her with his come, his name rolling off her lips over and over.

He holds her for half an hour, both of them sated and boneless. He wishes he could stay. He kisses her shoulder, then her lips before he gets dressed, feeling like an asshole, like he’s sneaking out on her, even though she’s watching him dress and even though she knows why he has to leave her. Once he’s dressed, he puts a knee on the bed and leans down to kiss her again.

“I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“Me too.”

It’s lucky he came to her room tonight and not the other way around, or he would have had to carry her back to her room after the fucking he just gave her. He’s sure if she tried to stand up right now her legs would buckle under her.

He feels something swell in his chest as he gives her once last glance before he walks out the door. He squashes it back down before it can make its way out of his mouth.

 

-

 

The tacky poster for the upcoming interschool dance has been taped to the door of Bellamy’s office for the past two weeks. Every time he looks at it, he remembers in resigned reluctance that he volunteered to chaperone for the night. As if he doesn’t have enough on his plate between preparing students for exams, secretly fucking Clarke every chance he gets, and trying to ignore his growing feelings towards her. But the dance is tonight, and then it will be over with.

He has a free period after lunch, in which he plans to have a well-deserved nap. Exams are in a few weeks, and he’s almost finished teaching the curriculum. At his old school the last month before exams would be reserved for reteaching the material as quickly as possible, since probably less than half the students were listening the first time (not that they listened the second time either, but at least he was _trying_ ). He’s looking forward to being able to go over everything at a reasonable pace, and really focus on things that he thinks the girls might have trouble with on the exam, as well as give them plenty of time to study silently on their own in class time.

Bellamy briefly considers going to the dining hall for lunch, seeing as he hasn’t bothered to bring anything with him today. But then his office door is swinging open and Clarke is striding through it, and food is the last thing on his mind. Clarke locks the door. They’ve tried to keep their extracurricular activities confined mostly to their rooms thus far, but they always have his office door locked if she’s in there anyway, just in case things get too heated and they find themselves unable to stop at a chaste kiss. Which happens most days.

Clarke rounds the desk and Bellamy pushes his chair out so that she can settle in his lap. The soft weight of her has his heart full and his dick hard. He never knew he could feel so horny yet so content at the same time. It’s almost worrying, if he had it in him to worry about anything right now.

Clarke lies against his chest, sitting sideways on his lap. Bellamy slides a hand between her legs and presses his lips to her temple.

“Hey,” he says. “How was your morning?”

Clarke squirms in his lap as his fingers tease her over her panties. There’s a damp patch there already. “Pretty good. My history teacher is a real hardass though.”

“Is that so?” He presses two fingers to her clit through her panties.

“Uh huh,” Clarke says, her breath shortening. “I think he’s meaner to me than all the other girls.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re naughtier than all the other girls.” His fingers slip beneath her panties.

“I’m not.”

Bellamy’s lips ghost over her ear. “Liar,” he says. His fingers delve inside her and she gasps, her head dropping to his shoulder. “The other girls don’t come and see me during lunch for a quick fingering.”

“I can be good,” Clarke says, all breathy. Her head rolls back now, as Bellamy continues to finger her slowly, and he drags his mouth along her exposed neck.

“I know you can, sweetheart. I’ve seen you be good for me. And just like a good girl you won’t come until I tell you to, will you?”

Clarke shakes her head. He listens to the way her breathing changes as he continues to finger her. He loves the way she trembles in his arms.

She gives a whine. “When?” she says.

“When what?”

“When can I come?” she says, her voice shaking.

“You can come when my cock is inside you.”

Clarke whimpers pathetically. “I want it,” she says. “Let me have your cock, please?”

“Baby,” Bellamy says. “How could I say no?” His cock strains against his fly, yearning for her. “Let’s get these panties off you,” he says, dragging them down her thighs and onto the floor.

“Will you fuck me like you fucked that other girl?” Clarke asks.

“The other girl?”

“In your office, when I walked in on you,” Clarke reminds him. Bellamy had honestly kind of forgotten Bree existed, let alone that he once fucked her in this very room. But he vaguely remembers the day Clarke is talking about.

“You want me to bend you over my desk, sweetheart?” he asks, fingers still teasing her.

“Please,” Clarke begs. Bellamy stands, forcing Clarke to stand with him, her skirt dropping back down over her bare pussy.

“I want your tits on the desk and your ass in the air,” Bellamy says. Clarke complies obediently, and Bellamy lifts her skirt, tucking it into her waistband. She spreads her legs, opening her folds for him invitingly. “Have you been thinking about this since that day?” Bellamy asks, admiring the view.

“Yes,” Clarke says. “I can’t get it out of my mind.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you better than I ever fucked anyone else.” He undoes his belt and fly and pulls his cock out, stroking himself, though he’s already hard as hell. He pushes two fingers into Clarke’s cunt, then pulls them out again, covered in her arousal. He coats his dick, then he lines the head up with her opening and slides into her, hands on her hips. It’s easier now that he’s giving her a regular fucking, but she still clenches around him deliciously. She takes his cock so well.

He pounds into her so hard the desk moves, and she bounces against him, greedy and desperate.

“Yes, yes!” she moans. “Give it to me. Fuck me.”

“How’s that, baby?” Bellamy growls. “You gonna come? Come on, show me what a good girl you can be and come for me.”

Clarke gives a low moan, and seconds later her orgasm hits her. Bellamy fucks her through it, and it’s immediately followed by a second wave. She gasps as she comes again, and liquid surges around Bellamy’s cock.

Bellamy groans. “God, Clarke. Such a good girl, coming twice for me. Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Inside me?”

“Yes, baby. Always,” Bellamy pants. He grunts in exertion, just before he comes. Fuck, he loves coming inside her. He fills her up, then pulls out of her, breathing hard. He steps back to admire his handy work. Her pussy is swollen and red, and a little bit of his come drips out of her.

He grabs his phone from the desk, opening the camera. “Look at me, sweetheart.” Clarke pushes herself up onto her elbows and turns her head to face him. Bellamy snaps a picture. He can’t help himself. “Is that okay?” he asks, showing her the picture. “I can delete it if you want.”

“No, it’s okay,” Clarke says. “Is that your come?”

“Yeah, baby. You look so sexy like this. With your ass and pussy on display for me, my come dripping out of you.” He looks at the photo again, then realises what the time is. “Lunch is almost over,” he says, putting his phone down again. Clarke stands up and smooths her skirt back down.

“Panties?” she asks. Bellamy shakes his head. A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans down to kiss her.

“What class do you have next?”

“Miss Sydney,” Clarke says. Bellamy’s cock twitches at the thought of Clarke sitting in Diana’s class with no panties, his come still inside her. He kisses her again. Clarke pulls away, looking down. “Bell?”

“Hmm?”

“The school dance is tonight.”

Bellamy sighs. “Don’t remind me. Are you going?” This is the first time she’s mentioned it to him. He kind of just figured she wasn’t going.

Clarke nods. “Raven and Harper asked me to go with them. They said they’re taking a stand against men by not having dates.”

Bellamy snorts. “Good for them.”

Clarke rubs her hand over Bellamy’s chest. “I wish you could take me.” Bellamy’s heart constricts. Of course she wants that. Bellamy’s school days are over, he’s had his share of school dances. But Clarke hasn’t had that yet. The excitement of getting ready with your friends while you wait for your date to pick you up. He feels guilty that he can’t give that to her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Clarke looks up into his eyes.

“Will you dance with me?”

Bellamy hesitates. “I don’t know, Clarke. I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“What if you dance with some of the other girls too? Then it won’t look like you’re singling me out.”

“That’s only part of the problem,” Bellamy says. “I’m worried I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

Clarke gives him her best doe eyes and pouty lips. “Please?”

“Okay,” he says. “One dance.”

Clarke beams. She pulls him down to her mouth, pushing her tongue past his open lips. The bell rings. Bellamy ignores it, pressing Clarke harder against the desk, trying to put his hands everywhere on her body at once. He pauses to take a breath.

“We don’t have time,” Clarke says. “Miss Sydney hates me. She’ll punish me if I’m late.”

“I’ll write you a note,” Bellamy says. He rains kisses over her face.

“And what will the note say? _Sorry Clarke is late for class, I had to fuck her one more time?_ ”

“Why are you so practical?” Bellamy groans, dropping his head.

Clarke laughs. “One of us has to be.” Bellamy steps back reluctantly, letting Clarke go.

“Let me write you a note anyway,” Bellamy says, sitting down. “You’ll most likely be late now.” He rips a page out of a notebook and scrawls a hasty apology, claiming he held Clarke back over lunch for extra tutoring. He signs the note and hands it to Clarke. “I’ll see you tonight at the dance.”

“Okay,” Clarke smiles, before hurrying out of his office.

Bellamy smiles to himself, feeling stupidly giddy. He picks her panties up from the floor and slides them into his pocket. God, he hopes she doesn’t wear anything under her dress tonight. The thought of fucking her in his room after the dance, pulling her pretty dress off her, gets him hard again. He picks up his phone to look at the picture he took of her. He wants to go and pull her out of class right now just so he can fuck her again. He sends her a few quick messages to let her know he’s thinking of her. She’s in class now so she can’t reply, but she’ll get them later.

**_I hope you made it to Diana’s class on time baby._ **

**_Wouldn’t want her to have to spank you and see my come in your pussy._ **

**_My note should keep her satisfied at least._ **

**_Can’t wait to fill you with my come again._ **

He puts his phone face down on the desk, still grinning stupidly. God, he fucking loves that girl. He straightens, shocked by his own thoughts. Shit. _Does_ he love her? Is that what this is? Is that the feeling he’s been trying so hard to suppress? Or is it just some heightened version of lust? He can’t love her. He’s not allowed to love her, because their relationship has an expiration date, and it’s hurtling towards them faster than Bellamy could have anticipated.

Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, Bellamy settles back in his chair to take a nap.


	17. Chapter 17

Bellamy wakes up twenty minutes later, feeling more groggy than refreshed. He opens his laptop, and sees that he has an email from Diana, twenty minutes ago. He opens it.

**Clarke was late to class. She had a note with your signature. I just want to check you really wrote it and it’s not a forgery. - Diana**

Bellamy rolls his eyes. Of course Diana would suspect the worst of Clarke. Bellamy types a quick reply, informing Diana that he did indeed write the note and that he’s very sorry he made Clarke late for her class. When he doesn’t get a response from Diana in ten minutes, he figures she’s satisfied.

He spends the rest of the afternoon just dicking around on the internet, totally unmotivated to do anything productive. It’s Friday afternoon, after all. There’s a knock on his door about ten minutes before the final bell goes.

“Yeah,” Bellamy calls, and the door opens. He looks up from his computer to see one of the administration assistants, Kara, poking her head through the door.

“Diyoza wants to see you,” she tells him, a sour look on her face. Probably resents being sent on a meaningless errand rather than getting her own work done, when Diyoza could just as easily have emailed him.

“Okay, thanks,” he tells Kara. He closes his laptop with a sigh, and makes his way to Diyoza’s office. He raps on her door and she calls him in. She’s sitting at her desk, a serious look on her face. For the first time, Bellamy wonders why she needs to see him, and what could possibly be so serious. His gut clenches as he sits down opposite her.

“Bellamy,” she says. She sighs. “There’s no easy way to ask you this.”

“Ask what, exactly?” His heart is racing, anxiety pooling in his stomach. He feels sick. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe she just wants him to take on some extra responsibility that she knows he won’t want.

Diyoza reaches into the top drawer of her desk and pulls out a phone. The cover is sparkly with a picture of a dolphin on the back of it. Bellamy recognises it instantly to be Clarke’s. His mouth goes dry. Diyoza presses the home button and the screen lights up, to reveal Clarke’s lock screen. Diyoza turns the phone in Bellamy’s direction. Four message notifications fill the screen, each under the name B.

**_I hope you made it to Diana’s class on time baby._ **

**_Wouldn’t want her to have to spank you and see my come in your pussy._ **

**_My note should keep her satisfied at least._ **

**_Can’t wait to fill you with my come again._ **

Bellamy can’t breathe.

“Did you send these messages to Clarke Griffin?”

Bellamy squeezes his eyes shut. Something lodged in his throat seems to be preventing him from answering, denying it. His skin his hot all over and his head feels foggy. This can’t be happening. After all their close calls, is this really how it ends? With some stupid messages he sent, seen by the wrong person?

When he opens his eyes again, Clarke’s phone is lying face down on the desk and Diyoza is staring at him with a look that somehow conveys disgust and disappointment at the same time.

“Well?” she prompts.

“I—” Bellamy swallows. He feels like he might throw up.

“I already talked to Clarke,” Diyoza says. “She told me everything, with a little persuasion. I just wanted to make sure she was telling the truth. Your silence tells me everything I need to know.”

Bellamy nods once. He wants to cry. He wants to go back in time a couple of hours and stop himself from sending Clarke those messages.

“Where is she? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. She’s with Diana. But what I want is to hear it from you. I want to hear what was going through your mind when you thought you could get away with fucking a student.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t fucking her?”

“No, I was,” Bellamy says. And now he’s said it out loud. Admitted it. There’s no going back from that. He’s going to be in prison before the year is out. “I wasn’t—I didn’t think—”

“You’re fucking right you didn’t think,” Diyoza says. “You must have lost your goddamn mind.” She shakes her head. “I never would have believed it of you,” she says. “Fucking hell.” She presses her fingers to her temples.

“So, what now?” Bellamy whispers.

“Well, obviously you’re fired.” That much was obvious, but the words still hit him hard. This is really happening. The job he’d worked so hard to get is gone. His face is going to be on the news, all over the internet, labelled a sexual predator. His family will probably disown him.

He nods in response to Diyoza. What else can he do? He’s guilty after all.

“You fucking any other students?” Diyoza asks him.

Bellamy’s eyes widen, aghast. “No,” he says. “God no. Look, I know this isn’t going to make it any better. But I wasn’t with Clarke because I have a thing for teenagers in uniforms. This isn’t some recurring problem, I’m not—I’m not a paedophile or someone who perpetually preys on young girls. It was just her, okay? I know it was still wrong. I know that. But it was only her.”

Diyoza listens to him, weighing his words carefully. “She said as much,” Diyoza shrugs. “But just because she thought she was the only one didn’t mean it was true. Men like you have a way of making girls feel special.”

Bellamy flushes. He thinks about all the things he said to Clarke, how he tried to make her feel special, just like Diyoza said. But the thing is, he really does think Clarke is special. Those weren’t just words to get her to sleep with him. But he can see how it looks. His intent doesn’t matter.

Diyoza sighs. “Listen, Bellamy. I believe you.”

Bellamy looks at her in surprise. “You do?”

“It doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re despicable for what you’ve done. But the thing is, I believe you do care for Clarke in your own twisted way. And I care about her too. She was distraught when I talked to her earlier. But I also care about the reputation of this school.”

Bellamy’s stomach twists at the thought of Clarke being distraught. He hates that he put her through that. He desperately wants to see her, tell her everything is going to be okay. He knows that’s impossible now.

“What are you saying?”

“Maybe we don’t need to get the authorities involved.”

“We don’t?”

Diyoza shrugs. “Clarke is eighteen. She clearly cares about you, and she doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. You seem to care about her, and you haven’t tried to lie or deny any of it. Perhaps what’s best for all of us is if you just leave without a fuss, and we forget any of this ever happened.”

Bellamy can barely comprehend what she’s saying. She just wants to… let him go? Even though, by all accounts, he’s a grown man who seduced a teenage girl almost ten years younger than him, who was his _student_.

“But you think I’m despicable. If you let me off the hook, doesn’t that make you despicable too?”

“Yeah,” Diyoza shrugs. “You don’t get to be the principal of a private school without being a little ruthless. I can report you if you want. But nobody got hurt. You’re not going to do this again. And I don’t want bad press for my school. You want the deal or not?”

Bellamy nods quickly. “If you’re sure.”

“Great. I need you to leave the premises immediately. You’re obviously still fired, and I can’t have you going to see Clarke. The official story will be that you stole expensive computer equipment to sell on the internet, but that we’re not pressing charges. You can come and get some of your stuff while the girls are at the dance tonight. Anything you can’t take with you now you can come and get at the end of term.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says. He swallows. “Okay.”

He still feels like shit. Nothing about this is okay. But what choice does he have? Diyoza is giving him a way out and he has to take it, whether or not he feels like he deserves it. He’s still lost his job, a job he loved. He won’t get a reference from Diyoza, and he’ll be lucky if he can even get a job in any school after this, let alone one as prestigious as Arkadia. But it’s better than prison.

The true punishment, the thing that’s worse than losing his job, and the prospect of having to change career paths, is that he’s lost Clarke. He can’t ever see her again after this. Can’t call her or text her to make sure she’s okay. Won’t ever get to touch her or kiss her or fuck her again. Can’t even say goodbye. It’s over, it’s over. And it hurts like hell.

 

-

 

He goes to a bar in the middle of Arkadia. He can’t think of anywhere else to go. As he tries to drown his sorrows in whiskey, he just feels worse and worse. His heart and his head ache, and instead of dulling the pain, the alcohol seems to be heightening it.

When 7pm hits, Bellamy heads back to school. He’s probably not fit to drive, but he doesn’t really care at this point. He parks his car in the lot, and as he walks the halls to his room, the numbness finally hits him. The school is empty, everyone either at the dance or at home.

He stands in the doorway to his room, just staring at it for at least a whole minute. Everything in it reminds him of Clarke. But he’s not thinking about that now.

He goes for the closet and grabs his suitcase and begins filling it with clothes, not bothering to fold them properly. He just wants to be out of here as quickly as possible. He doesn’t need any more reminders of how he fucked things up. He throws the last of his clothes into the suitcase then flips the lid shut and zips it up.

“Bellamy.”

His heart spasms at the sound of her voice. He looks up, and there’s Clarke standing in the open doorway of his room. She’s got on a pretty red dress with a plunging neckline, tight to the waist then flaring out, stopping at her ankles, where he can see her red stilettos. Her hair has been curled and pinned up, and her makeup done. She looks so beautiful Bellamy feels like he might die.

“Clarke,” he says, his voice cracking. He gets to his feet. “What are you doing here? You should be at the dance.”

Clarke shakes her head, her lower lip trembling. She bursts into tears them, and Bellamy can’t help but reach out for her. She moves towards him and falls into his arms, sobbing.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I was late for class and Miss Sydney took my phone. It was sitting on her desk and she read the messages you sent me. And then they made me tell them everything. They said they already had enough proof to convict you and that they could probably find more and it would be worse for you if I didn’t just tell them the truth.” She says all this through strangled sobs.

“Shh, shh,” Bellamy soothes her. “It’s okay. You did the right thing.”

“This is all my fault.”

“No, no,” Bellamy says. “Never think that.”

“It is. I made you want me. I teased you. I seduced you. I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Bellamy grabs her shoulders and pulls her face away from his chest so he can look her in the eye. “Listen to me,” he says fiercely. “None of this is your fault. I’m a grown man who made his own decisions. You did nothing wrong.”

“But—"

“Clarke,” he says. “I promise you, this is not your fault.” Clarke nods, then bursts into a fresh round of tears. He pulls her into his arms again and strokes her hair until her sobbing has subsided. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says softly. “You should be at the dance.”

“I don’t want to go without you. I hated having to pretend everything was okay while Raven and Harper made me get dressed up.”

“But you look so lovely.”

“What does it matter?” Clarke mutters bitterly. She’s stopped crying now, and Bellamy lets his arms fall, lest someone come by and see them together. “What do we do now?” Clarke asks.

Bellamy hesitates. She’s looking up at him, so innocent and expectant, waiting for him to tell her how they’re going to figure this out, how they’re going to make it work despite everything.

“Nothing, Clarke,” he says, already hating himself. “It’s over.”

Creases form in the corners of Clarke’s eyes. She looks crushed. “No,” she says. “It can’t be over. I need you.”

“You don’t need me,” Bellamy whispers. “You’ll see that soon. You’re much better off without me.”

“But I love you,” she says, the words falling from her mouth in tandem with the tears from her eyes. The words stab into his heart, lodged there, making it stop beating for a moment. On some level he thinks he already knew she loved him. That she was thinking it every time she was with him. But to hear it from her mouth is too much to bear. Especially when he feels the way he feels about her.

“You don’t love me, Clarke,” Bellamy says. “You just think you do. And in a couple of months you’ll probably hate me for what I’ve done to you. You’ll realise what a creep I really am, sneaking around with his eighteen-year-old student, getting off on spanking you and coming inside you.”

Clarke gapes at him, tears staining her cheeks, black from her running mascara. “It wasn’t like that,” she says. Then, uncertainly, “Was it?”

Bellamy shakes his head slowly. “No,” he whispers. As much as he needs her to let him go, he can’t bring himself to let her believe he never cared about her.

“Then…?” she says, trailing off, hopeful again.

Bellamy rubs his face in anguish. “What do you want me to say, Clarke?” he says, too loudly, too forceful. “That I love you too? That I’m so in love you that I don’t know what I’m going to do without you? That I’ll spend every second of the rest of my life thinking about you and how I wish we could’ve met even three years later?”

“Only if it’s true.”

Bellamy licks his lips. “You know it is.” Clarke looks like she might cry again. “God, this is so fucked up,” Bellamy groans. “I want you so much,” he says, pulling her in close again. His lips rest against her forehead. “I want to be with you. But it’s over. It has to be over. I’m so sorry.”

Tears escape from his own eyes now, though he tries so hard to hold them back. Clarke tilts her head back to look up at him. She pushes herself up onto her tip toes and presses her lips to his cheek, just under his eye, kissing his tears away.

He gives a short laugh. “I thought I was meant to be doing the comforting.”

“You need me too,” Clarke says, moving to kiss his other cheek. Bellamy doesn’t confirm or deny it, though he thinks maybe it’s true. It’s not like it has any bearing anyway. His feelings don’t matter anymore. “Fuck me one last time,” Clarke says, just before taking his lips with hers and pushing her tongue into his mouth.

He wants to tell her that it’s a bad idea, because he knows it is. But he’s already fired, so instead he just kisses her back. He urges her backwards, reaching his hand out to close the bedroom door, then he has her pressed up against it, his body flush against hers. His lips find her neck and he pushes her dress up until her bare pussy is revealed to him. His fingers trace her folds and she rubs herself against him, spreading her legs wide.

“I love you so much,” he tells her.

“Show me,” Clarke says, reaching for his bulge, rubbing him through his pants. Bellamy groans, then he’s kissing her again while she palms his cock over his clothes. Bellamy drops his hands from where they rest on her waist so he can undo his fly, and then he’s shucking his pants and shoes and his boxers, and then his shirt. Clarke moves to pull her dress off but he stops her.

“I want you to keep it on,” he says. “I had a fantasy about fucking you in your prom dress.”

“It’s not prom.”

Bellamy laughs, and he’s amazed that she can still somehow make him feel joy, even as he’s still feeling so much despair and loss. Clarke smiles and her arms wrap around his neck. He buries his head into her shoulder.

“Come on baby,” he whispers. “Spread those legs for me. I want to feel you come on my cock one last time.” He puts his arm under her right knee lifting her leg up and to the side, exposing her swollen cunt to him. He positions his cock to her entrance, then pushes into her, and she still moans when he enters her, as if it shocks her every time. Her teeth sink into his shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark later. He ruts his hips against her, thrusting his cock inside her, battering her against the door.

“Yes,” she cries. She sucks at his chest, until his cock hits her particularly good and she spasms, her head lolling back and her mouth opening in a silent gasp. Bellamy finds her hand with his and interlocks their fingers together. “I’m coming,” Clarke pants. Bellamy fucks her through her orgasm, and she murmurs incoherently as she comes, pressing herself against him. He comes soon after, and he’s never been less satisfied. It really is over now.

He lets his cock slip from her come filled cunt, fingers still intertwined with hers. He presses his forehead against hers, and closes his eyes just as a tear slips from one of them.

“Was that really the last time?” Clarke whispers. Bellamy doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have it in him to say it again. She knows it’s over.

“I’ll miss you,” he says.

“And I’ll miss you.” Her voice trembles, on the verge of tears again.

Bellamy opens his eyes and steps away from her. “You should go and clean yourself up. You can still make it to the dance.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“You might regret it later if you don’t go. I don’t want you to miss out on anything because of me.”

Clarke nods, her head dropping as she starts crying again. Bellamy wants to comfort her, but if he puts his arms around her again, he’s afraid he might never let go. He puts his hand on the doorknob and Clarke shifts out of the way so he can open the door.

“Goodbye, Clarke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't hate me


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second last chapter

Bellamy deletes his picture of Clarke from his phone, and all their messages to each other, and then he blocks her number. He takes the drawings she gave him and sets a lighter to the one of them together and the one of his cock. He keeps the one of his face. He figures it’s innocent enough, and he can’t bring himself to get rid of _every_ trace of her.

By the time he gets home, his mom and Octavia are both asleep in bed. He hasn’t warned them he’s coming. He tries not to make a sound as he walks through the front door, but by the time he’s set a foot inside, Octavia is already in the hall, staring at him, the light from her bedroom illuminating her worried expression.

“What are you doing up?” Bellamy whispers, careful not to wake Aurora.

“I heard your car. What’s wrong? What are you doing here? I didn’t think you were coming home this weekend.”

“I—” Bellamy swallows, a lump forming in his throat. “I got fired.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he’s crying.

He doesn’t deserve Octavia’s sympathy, he knows that. But she doesn’t, and in an instant she’s in front of him, wrapping her arms around him. She’s not a big hugger, so that means something to him. But he can’t help but think that if she knew the truth, she wouldn’t be so sympathetic. The hug doesn’t last long, but Bellamy appreciates it all the same.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Bellamy shakes his head. “I just want to go to bed.” Octavia nods, and Bellamy picks his suitcase up from where he’d dropped it by the door. He heads to his room, and he can feel Octavia’s eyes on him. She’s dropped the subject for now, but he knows in the morning she’s going to want to know what happened. But he’ll deal with that when the time comes. Right now, he needs to forget about everything but falling into a deep slumber.

 

-

 

He doesn’t sleep. Thoughts of Clarke plague him, and if he’s not reliving their last moments together in his mind, he’s replaying his conversation with Diyoza over and over. It’s torture. He must doze off in the early hours of the morning, because the next thing he knows it’s after ten. He can hear the TV blaring in the living room, and he drags himself out of bed and to the shower. Anything to delay having to explain himself to his family.

When he finally makes an appearance, washed and dressed, he finds Aurora and Octavia hanging around, Octavia watching TV, Aurora knitting. He knows it’s for his benefit. If he wasn’t here, Aurora would probably be off doing some errand or other and Octavia would be out doing something adventurous with her thrill seeker friends.

“Hey,” he says. He already feels like crying and they haven’t even asked him anything yet. The two of them look up at him from the couch. Aurora does her best to look like everything is normal, but Octavia dives right in.

“So what happened?”

Bellamy sighs, sinking into the worn armchair next to the couch. “I got fired.”

“You said that. But why?”

His jaw clenches. Now the hard part. Convincing them. “Stealing,” he says.

“ _Stealing_?”

“Yeah. I stole expensive computer equipment and sold it on the internet.”

“Bellamy,” Aurora says, disapprovingly. “I raised you better than that.” She shakes her head.

“Sorry, Mom,” he says, eyes downcast. “I guess I just thought we needed the money. I was… saving it. For Octavia, for college.” Guilt tugs on his heartstrings. She’d been so proud of him when he got the job. And to fuck it up like this. The lies make him sick, but he can’t bear to have her think poorly of him. She’s disappointed enough at the thought of him stealing. If she knew the truth, she’d never speak to him again. He swallows. “Sorry.”

“I understand,” she says. “Sometimes we do stupid things for the people we love.” Bellamy knows she’s not proud of some of the things she used to have to do just to make ends meet, on top of working two jobs. Bellamy hopes to god she doesn’t have to go back to that just because he’s lost his job. If he has to work five jobs to make up for it, he’ll do it.

Aurora gets up, taking her knitting with her. Seems she’s satisfied with his explanation. He’s not sure if she really believes it, or if she just wants to. She ruffles his hair as she passes.

“I have to go and do the grocery shopping. Put your clothes in the laundry and I’ll wash them when I get back.”

“I can do my own washing, Mom.”

“Just put it in the laundry.”

She leaves the room, and Bellamy finally makes eye contact with Octavia. She’s squinting at him suspiciously, and he knows she doesn’t believe a word of his story. He has to get out of here before she can start interrogating him.

“I should—”

“Don’t you dare,” Octavia says. Aurora walks through the room, with a shopping list in her hand and her handbag over her shoulder. As soon as Aurora is out of the house, Octavia pounces on him. “What really happened?”

“I told you.”

“I know you didn’t steal. Mostly because you wouldn’t even know where to start when it came to selling shit on the internet. So what did you really do?”

“I didn’t get around to selling it. I couldn’t figure it out. But I really did steal it.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re a shitty liar.”

“Mom believes me.”

“Mom believes what she wants to believe. She thinks I’ve never had sex or smoked weed.”

“I would have preferred to keep believing that too.”

“Stop deflecting.”

Bellamy exhales dramatically. He’s not going to tell her the truth, no matter how hard she pushes. He’s already lost Clarke, he’s not going to lose the one other person who means anything to him. She doesn’t need to know what he’s done.

“Can you just drop it?”

“It must be pretty bad, if you won’t tell me,” Octavia says. “What did you do, Bellamy? Hit someone? A kid?”

Bellamy flinches. “Corporal punishment is allowed at Arkadia.”

“Maybe you hit her too hard. Maybe you beat her up.”

Bellamy gives his sister a look. Does she really think he’s capable of that? “I told you. I stole. Now I’m going back to bed because I haven’t had enough sleep.”

“You didn’t beat her then,” Octavia says as Bellamy stands. “Helped her cheat?”

“Yes. Are you happy? I helped a student cheat. Can we drop it now?” he groans.

“No, you’d admit to that,” Octavia says. Bellamy huffs. He’s had enough of this guessing game. He stands. “Did you sleep with her?”

He stops short. “Of course not,” he says. But the pause is too long, and the words are too defensive. He glances at Octavia, her mouth hanging open. Bellamy’s stomach drops. He can feel the guilt etched all over his face.

“You slept with a student,” Octavia says, and he can see the reality of the situation dawn on her.

“O—”

Octavia jumps up from the couch. “What the _fuck_ , Bellamy? I didn’t really think—fuck. You—fuck.”

“It’s not how it seems!”

“You’re a fucking teacher, Bellamy! And you fucked one of the girls who looked up to you, who needed your guidance, who was in your care! How is it not how it seems?”

“It wasn’t just sex, okay? It was—I was—I _am_ in love with her.”

Octavia snorts. “Fuck you. How old is she? Sixteen? Fifteen?”

“No! She’s eighteen.”

“My age,” Octavia says flatly. “You’re disgusting. I can’t believe—I can’t.” She shakes her head. “Shouldn’t you be in a jail cell right now or something?”

“Diyoza made me a deal.”

“Then you’re both disgusting.”

“O, please,” Bellamy says. “I know it was wrong. You don’t have to tell me. But I can’t help how I feel, okay?”

“So you were already in love with her when you started fucking her, right? It wasn’t just some thrilling little game you were playing with some virgin who didn’t know any better?” Bellamy avoids Octavia’s piercing gaze. How the fuck does she have him all figured out? “You say you know it was wrong, but I don’t really think you feel that way. I think you think other people think it’s wrong. But I think _you_ think what you did was justified. You’re not sorry you did it, you’re sorry you got caught.”

“And what if I am?” Bellamy snaps. “I’m not like those other guys you read about in the news. I wasn’t grooming her or something. I’m not a paedophile or—or a sexual predator. It’s different with me and Clarke.”

“Oh really?” Octavia says. “Tell me this, big brother. If I came home and I told you that I was dating one of my teachers, somebody ten years older than me, how would you feel? What if I said we were in love and I begged you not to tell anyone and that it wasn’t his fault? What would you do to that guy?”

Bellamy clenches his jaw. She’s got him, and she knows it.

“I can’t stand to look at you a second longer,” Octavia says. He can hear the disgust in her voice. “I want you to move out.”

“O,” Bellamy says, hurt. “Please, I’m still your brother.”

“Not as far as I’m concerned. You’re dead to me,” she says, icy. The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He’s spent most of his life caring more about her than about himself. And now she hates him so much she can’t even look at him. He feels sick to his stomach. But she’ll come around eventually, right? It’s just a shock. She’ll realise everyone screws up, and that he’s sorry for what he’s done. And then she’ll forgive him.

Octavia gives him one last withering look before striding past him towards her room.

“Are you going to tell anyone?” Bellamy calls after her. He hates that he has to ask. But he can’t bear for his mother to know and hate him as well. Or worse, for her to go blabbing to the authorities.

Octavia turns her head. “I won’t tell. But it’s for Mom, not for you.”

 

-

 

It takes Bellamy a few weeks to find a place, but as soon as he does, he’s out of the house. His mom doesn’t understand why he’s leaving. She also hasn’t seemed to notice that Octavia hasn’t spoken two words to him since he told them he got fired. Either that or she’s ignoring the tension between them.

It’s the cheapest place he could find, so it’s nothing flash, but it’s not like he has a job to support himself at the moment. He has to rely on what little savings he has. Plus, there aren’t a lot of landlords who are willing to take on a tenant that has no source of income.

Applying for jobs is a nightmare. He doesn’t even know what to put on his resume. Does he put that he worked at Arkadia for a year, and risk them asking why he no longer works there, and why he doesn’t have a reference from them? Or does he just leave it off completely and pretend he didn’t work for a year? Neither seems ideal. Plus, it’s getting late in the academic year, and most schools have already advertised and are halfway through interviews by now. And even if he does happen to find a job at a school, he won’t start for another three months, and his savings won’t last him that long. It’s not like he got any severance pay from Arkadia.

He gives up hope of finding a teaching position and starts applying for random retail positions. It’s not like he’s qualified for anything else.

On top of it all, the shitty apartment, the no money, no job and the fact that his sister hates his guts, he still misses Clarke. It will probably fade, eventually, this longing he has for her. Mostly it’s this dull ache, thudding softly in the back of his mind and heart. At night, it overwhelms him. His fingers hover over the keypad on his phone, wanting to message her though he doesn’t have her number anymore. He could contact her on Twitter. Find her on Facebook. He wants to know if she’s tried to contact him, or if she too has deleted his number, removed every trace of him from her life.

He lies awake at night, thinking of her. He craves and he pines, and he despairs, and he feels desperately guilty. He wants her to yearn for him too, but at the same time, he wants her to forget him, for her to be okay, to move on with her life and find somebody who’s really right for her. Yet the thought of her with someone else makes his stomach churn. He so badly wants to be a good person, and yet he knows without a doubt that he is not. He knows it because if he could go back and do it all again, he would. No question.

 

-

 

By some miracle, Bellamy finds a job. And not at the pet store down the road, which frankly looks a little shady and probably should be shut down.

It’s not a job in a traditional school. It’s a night school, where people who dropped out of high school for whatever reason can go back and earn their GED. The hours are negotiable, and they run classes over the summer.

He’s honest in the interview. Well, as honest as he can be. He tells them he got fired from Arkadia Grammar for stealing, though he means to just shut up about it entirely. Somehow the man interviewing him, a man named Marcus Kane, manages to draw it out of him. Bellamy is sure he’s fucked it up, that he’ll have to go back to bartending like when he was in college, or god forbid, selling unethically bred goldfish at the shady pet store.

But then Kane calls him and tells him he got the job. He can hardly fucking believe something is finally going his way. Even if the rest of his life has gone to shit, he still gets to teach, and he’s not going to be homeless or starve. It’s something, and something is all he can hope for right now.

When he shows up for work a week later, nervous but excited, Kane shows him to his class, and Bellamy falls right back into it. He’s in his element in front of a class, whether it’s teenagers or adults. His class is small, but the range of people in his class is incredible. The oldest person is in their fifties, and the youngest is twenty-three. They’re from all different backgrounds, and they all have their reasons for being here.

Anyone would think working at a private school would far outrank a night school. But Bellamy honestly think he’s going to prefer it here. The people he’s teaching actually want to be there. Maybe they screwed up their first time, but they have a goal and a purpose, and they’re determined. Bellamy thinks they’re kind of brave for going back to school after all this time.

A couple of people stay back after class, not just to ask questions, but to chat to him, and by the time he’s alone in the classroom, he’s grinning from ear to ear. He hasn’t felt this happy since… his smile drops. It’s the first time he’s thought about her all day.

Kane knocks on the door and Bellamy looks up as his new boss walks into the room.

“How was your first day?”

Bellamy nods enthusiastically. “Great. I kind of feel like this job was made for me. Thank you, for taking a chance on me. You didn’t have to, and I’m really grateful.”

“No need for gratitude,” Kane smiles.

Bellamy eyes him for a moment, deciding whether or not to ask the question. “Can I ask you—why did you hire me? Even after what I did at my last job?”

“There are worse things than stealing, Bellamy. We all make mistakes.”

Guilt pools in his stomach. He doesn’t like having this secret from Kane, this person who put all this unfounded faith in him.

“What if I’d done something worse?” Bellamy asks, not looking Kane in the eye. “What if—what if I did something unforgiveable?”

“Bellamy,” Kane says, his voice calm and even. “Nothing is unforgiveable. At least, not here. This is a place for second chances. And you’ll have them again.”

“Chances?”

Kane nods. “Maybe you ran out before. But there are always plenty here. You’ll see.” Kane nods again. Bellamy wonders why the man is speaking in riddles. Perhaps he’s some kind of mystical being trapped in a human body. Or perhaps he too has done things he’s not proud of, and working at this school, giving other people another shot at life is his way of atoning for it.

“Great work today,” Kane says. “Good night, Bellamy. See you tomorrow.”

 

-

 

Life does get slowly better after that. He finds a slightly nicer apartment, and he likes that he has free time during the day to write or read or just enjoy the sunshine. Octavia still doesn’t speak to him, but he had dinner with his mom every Sunday night. She never questions why Octavia doesn’t join them. Bellamy has a feeling Aurora knows more about his true reason for being fired than she’s letting on, or at least has an inkling that he’s not being entirely honest. But she never brings it up, and Bellamy never offers the information.

He still thinks about Clarke, but less and less often, now that he’s busy again. Part of him still wants to reach out to her. He hates how he left things with her, and he’s always going to wonder how she is and what she’s doing, even though he has no right to know, or to want to know.

After a year, Octavia stops leaving the house whenever he comes over. It’s a slow process, but he thinks there’s a chance of rebuilding their relationship. Maybe she won’t ever look up to him the way she once did, but maybe that’s for the best anyway. She starts joining him and Aurora for Sunday night dinners, and eventually, her one-word answers become sentences again. It takes two years, but they get there.

Bellamy continues working at the night school. He really loves it, too. It feels like he’s doing something worthwhile. His students respect and appreciate him, and they work hard because they know they have to. They don’t take anything for granted. Bellamy doesn’t either, even after working there almost three years.

He’s packing up his things at ten o’clock on a Thursday night, after the last of his students have just left, following a fifteen-minute conversation about which bars in town are the best. He never would’ve had that conversation if he’d been at a regular school.  

There’s a knock at the door, though he knows it’s open, and then a hesitant, “Bellamy?”

It’s strange, his reaction to hearing her voice after all this time. His stomach flips over, his heart beats faster, and his skin erupts in goosebumps, even before he’s registered why that voice sounds familiar. It’s like his body knows instantly that it’s her, but his mind hasn’t quite caught up yet.

He glances towards the sound of the voice, and there she is, standing in the doorway. Clarke. His mouth goes dry. He wonders for a moment if he’s hallucinating. He stands frozen in place, though his body is screaming at him to go to her, to pull her into his arms and never let her go.

“You cut your hair,” is the first idiotic thing that comes out of his mouth. Clarke runs a hand over her shoulder length hair self-consciously.

“A while ago,” she says. “I think I’m going to grow it out again.”

Bellamy nods, not knowing what else to say. His brain seems to have short circuited, and he can’t formulate a single intelligent thought. He swallows, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat, with no success. Other than the hair, she looks almost the same. Her figure might be a little fuller, and maybe she looks a little less innocent, a little less girlish. Maybe it’s her clothes, maybe it’s her eyes. Maybe it’s his imagination.

“What are you doing here?” Bellamy asks, since it seems she’s not going to offer the information. He’s not even totally sure she’s here for him. Maybe she knows someone else at the school and she just happened to walk by and see him.

“Um,” she says. She’s twisting her fingers together, a nervous habit. She glances down, and then back up at him. “Do you—would you maybe want to get a drink with me?”

“A drink?” Bellamy repeats dumbly. He does the math in his head. Yeah, she’s old enough to drink now.

Clarke shrugs. “It’s no big deal,” she says hurriedly. “If you’re busy or whatever.” She takes an obvious breath and squares her shoulders, tilting her chin up a little higher, like maybe she’s steeling herself for his rejection.

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees. “I just heard about this bar I haven’t been to yet. I can drive us if you want.” He’s proud of himself for sounding so composed, when inside he feels anything but.

“I have my car here,” Clarke says. “I’ll just meet you there in a few minutes?”

“Okay,” Bellamy says. He gives her the name of the bar, and she gives him a small smile before repeating that she’ll meet him there soon, and then leaving.

Bellamy’s mind races as he makes his way to his car. He still has no idea why she’s here. Seeing her again has sent him into a whirlwind of emotions. He hasn’t thought about her that much lately, only occasionally, and it doesn’t ache like it used to, but there is some vague sense of regret.

He’s imagined seeing her again countless times. Sometimes he imagines reaching out to her and apologising, finding out she’s doing okay and then leaving her alone for good. Sometimes he imagines accidentally running into her in café or on the street, then taking her home with him and fucking her senseless. He never imagined she’d seek out him, or that he’d even cross her mind in any kind of meaningful way. Not after three years.

Three years of trying to forget about her. He’d like to think he was almost there, but he’s probably fooling himself. He was never going to forget her. In any case, here she is, back in his life, and he has no idea what happens next. All he knows is that the moment he saw her, all those old emotions came bubbling to the surface, and after she’s gone again, he’ll probably be just as wrecked as the first time.


	19. Chapter 19

Clarke gets to the bar before him, and when he finds her at a table inside, she already has a drink for him.

“Whiskey, right?” she asks. Bellamy nods. He’s surprised she even took notice of what he drank when they were together, let alone remembers it now. She has a glass of the same in her own hand, and Bellamy quickly squashes the notion that it might have anything to do with him. Plenty of people like whiskey.

He takes the seat next to her, though maybe it’s a mistake to be so close to her. Somehow, she still has him in her gravitational pull, and he can’t help but want to be near her. She smiles, and it lights up her face, and the whole room too. God, she’s still so fucking beautiful it hurts.

Bellamy takes a sip of his drink. Clarke does the same. They put their drinks down at the same time. Bellamy glances at Clarke, and she seems to realise he’s waiting for her to speak.

“How are you?” she asks.

“I’m… good,” Bellamy says lamely. “And… how are you?”

“Good,” Clarke nods. It’s not really the response he’s after. But then, it’s probably not the right question, either. It’s not really what he wants to ask. What he wants to ask is: _are you okay? What happened after I left? Did you ever try to contact me before this? Did what happened between us fuck you up? What are you doing now? Why are you here? Do you ever think about me?_ But all of that seems a little much to dive into right now.

“What brings you to town?” Bellamy asks, settling for something where the answer has no chance of causing him pain.

Clarke looks at him as if he’s a complete idiot. “You,” she says. And maybe that shouldn’t hurt, but it does. Because why would she seek him out, to come here especially to see him, if not to tell him how much he fucked her up, to blame him for manipulating her and seducing her and taking her virginity when she didn’t know any better?

At the time, he didn’t believe he’d done any of those things. He really thought she loved him, and he loved her. But three years has made him doubt it, and now he wonders if he really is as awful as his sister said he was.

“How did you find me?” he asks, putting off the inevitable a little longer. He doesn’t know if he can bear to hear her say she hates him.

She shrugs. “I googled you. There aren’t a lot of Bellamy Blakes in the world. The website for your school had you listed as a teacher.”

Bellamy nods, and there’s a silence before they both try to speak at the same time.

“Clarke, I—”

“Bellamy—”

“You go,” Bellamy says. He wants her to say what she came here to say, to get it off her chest so she can have closure, or whatever it is she’s looking for.

“I’m glad you’re still teaching,” she says. Not what he was expecting. “You were a really great teacher, and I’m glad what we did didn’t fuck that up. Are you—are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” Every word out of her mouth is a surprise. He never stopped to ask himself before if he was happy. Is he happy?

“Do you like your job or do you wish you were still at Arkadia?”

“I like my job,” he assures her. “Clarke, you know you don’t have any obligation to check up on me, right? I meant it when I said nothing that happened was your fault.”

“I know that.”

Bellamy hesitates. “And you? Are you happy? What are you doing now?”

“I’m almost finished my fine arts degree,” Clarke says. “Just a few more months.” Bellamy isn’t sure if she avoided the first part of the question on purpose, or if she just didn’t see the point in answering it.

“And then what?”

“I’m not sure, actually,” Clarke laughs. “Strange, right? I usually know exactly what I want and do whatever it takes to get it. Now I have no idea.”

Bellamy smiles. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I hope so.”

Bellamy lets the smile drop from his face. “Clarke, I’m really sorry. For how things ended. For all of it. I’m so glad you’re okay and that you don’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you.” Bellamy takes another sip of his drink to avoid having to respond to that. “I was so nervous to come here,” Clarke says. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me. I almost chickened out like six times.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to see you?”

Clarke shrugs. “Lots of reasons.”

Bellamy puts his drink down. “Clarke,” he says. “Can I ask—why are you here?”

Clarke looks down into her whiskey. She bites her lip. “I guess—I guess just had to see if it was real,” she whispers. “I thought maybe I imagined it all. That I just built you up in my head, that I just heard what I wanted to hear, believed what I wanted to believe. I thought maybe you didn’t really love me at all, and that I was just another clueless teenage girl who was in love with a man who took advantage of that.”

Bellamy’s heart aches as he listens to her. Tears well in his eyes. He’s had all the same thoughts himself. But looking at her now, he remembers what it was really like. “It was real, Clarke,” he says with certainty.

Clarke gives him a sad smile. “I know.”

He reaches for her hand where it rests on the table and takes it in his. It’s meant to be a reassuring gesture, but the moment he touches her something shifts. Electricity pulses through his veins, and his heart thumps so loudly he’s sure she must be able to hear it. He’d been doing a pretty good job avoiding thinking about kissing her, but now it’s all he can think of. He wants to pull her into his lap and kiss her till his lips burn. He wants to put his hands on her skin, to touch her everywhere, to learn her body all over again. Their knees brush, and Clarke blushes. Their eyes meet and Bellamy pulls his hand away. His drink is empty, but Clarke still has a little left in her glass.

“I should get going,” Bellamy says. “Do you want me to wait until you’ve finished?” Clarke picks up her glass and downs the rest of it, then she stands up.

“I should go too.”

Bellamy stands, following her lead until they’re out on the street. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he says.

Clarke nods. “It’s just around the corner,” she says, left down the empty street. They walk together in silence. Bellamy wonders if she can feel the tension between them, or if he’s just imagining it. They reach her car, and Clarke fumbles around in her handbag for her keys.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Bellamy asks, when Clarke finally procures her keys. She only had one drink, but she did down it pretty fast. “Because I can drive you if you—”

“No,” Clarke says quickly. “I’m fine. I can handle my liquor pretty well.”

Bellamy smirks. Of course she can. “You know, I never would have pegged you for a whiskey drinker.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “I guess you don’t know me very well.”

Her words sober him. “No. I guess I don’t.” He reaches around Clarke for the car door handle and pulls it open. “Well. Goodnight, I guess.”

“It tastes like you, you know,” Clarke blurts out. She immediately looks like she wishes she could take the words back.

“What?”

“Whiskey. I—that’s why I started drinking it. That’s what you tasted like the first time we…” she trails off, and even in the dim light of the streetlamp he can tell her face is bright red. “Never mind,” she whispers.

“Clarke,” Bellamy says. He shuts the car door. He’s close to her, closer than he should be. He can smell her perfume or her shampoo, or something. It’s sweet and unfamiliar. “Finish what you were going to say.”

She looks up at him. “You know what I was going to say.”

“Do you still think about me?” he whispers.

“Yes.”

He presses her against the car, hands on either side of her, his lips mere millimetres from hers. Their noses brush. He can feel her heart beating rapidly. Or is that his own heartbeat he can feel?

“Can I kiss you?” he says, even quieter this time. He hears her breath hitch. He can feel her breath on his lips.

“Yes,” Clarke says. He kisses her, deep and fierce, his tongue meeting hers. Her fingers curl into the front of his shirt, and she opens her mouth for him, kissing him back with such intensity Bellamy thinks he could burst into flames at any moment.

“Take me back to your place,” Clarke says, her voice breathy in between kisses. “I need you.”

Bellamy groans. He pulls away, but not really. His body is still pressed against hers in every place possible, other than their lips. She can probably feel how hard he is, his cock pressed against her. He resists the urge to grind against her. It’s been a while since he got laid. “Okay.”

He grabs her hand and they practically run in the other direction to his car, and Clarke is laughing, and it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

Her hand rubs his thigh as he drives, higher and higher until she’s rubbing his cock through his jeans.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bellamy mutters under his breath. His instincts tell him to floor it, get back to his apartment as quick as possible, but he’s already having trouble controlling the car, what with Clarke’s hand fondling him expertly, as if she’s trying to get him to come in his pants before they even get there.

Bellamy throws the car into park when they arrive, and he’s out of the car and around to the passenger side before Clarke even has her door open. He pulls her out of the car and lifts her into his arms, carrying her to his apartment. Her arms are around his neck and her head buried into his shoulder. It would probably be faster if they both just walked, but neither of them says so.

He has to put her down to unlock the door to his apartment, but she still clings to him. He gets the door open, then grabs her hand and practically drags her to his bedroom. Kissing her again, he backs her towards his bed, where she falls back against the covers. Bellamy pulls his shirt over his head, and Clarke sits up so she can do the same. Fucking hell, those tits. Bellamy wants to bury his face in them. She unclips her bra and lets it fall from her chest, so he can admire her nipples, pink and hard. They way she’s looking at him, all smug and sultry, she knows what her tits do to him still.

Bellamy drops to his knees on the bed between her open legs. He pushes her back down on the bed and closes his mouth over one of her nipples. She arches up towards him, a small whine coming from her mouth. As he plays with her nipples with his mouth and one hand, he brings the other hand between her legs, teasing her over the seam of her jeans.

“Bellamy,” she moans. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long. No one can fuck me as good as you did.”

Bellamy freezes. The thought of her with someone else makes him sick to his stomach. It’s not like he expected her to go three years without sex, after all, he didn’t. But she’s not his anymore, and he hates that.

Until now, he hasn’t stopped to think about whether or not this is a good idea. Or what it means. Or why either of them is doing this, beyond the fact that she wants him, and he wants her.  But if she’s just here because she’s horny and no one else can make her come, then that’s not enough for him.

 “What’s wrong?” Clarke asks as Bellamy sits up and turns away from her, perched on the end of the bed.

“I can’t do this,” he whispers, even though he’s the one that started it, the one that wanted it. He still wants it.

“Oh,” says Clarke. “Do you need me to dress up in a schoolgirl uniform? Because I don’t mind.”

Bellamy’s stomach churns. Is that really what she thinks of him? His jaw tightens. “Of course not. That’s not what I meant.”

“Sorry,” Clarke says. “I was only kidding. Stupid joke. I didn’t really think—"

“I know.” Bellamy sighs. “What I meant was… we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?” Clarke says. “You aren’t my teacher anymore.”

“You’re still ten years younger than me.”

“It’s just sex, Bellamy,” Clarke says. His stomach plummets. That’s entirely the problem.

He turns his head back to look at her. She’s on her knees, half naked in his bed, and technically, this time, he’s not doing anything wrong if he fucks her. He’s not her teacher. She’s just some hot college student who wants a good fucking. But he wants more than that, and he’s pretty sure he can never have it.

“Clarke,” he says. Her eyes are wide and questioning. She looks so unsure. She doesn’t know what she wants, she admitted that before. From her life or from him. “You should go. I’ll take you back to your car.”

“Bellamy,” she pleads. “Tell me what you’re thinking, please.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Bellamy swallows. “It’s too much.”

“I can handle it. Just say what you need to say, and then I’ll go.”

Bellamy hesitates. He glances at her, her eyes wide and pleading. The words fall out of his mouth before he can think better of it. “I’m still in love with you,” he says, voice husky and barely audible. Clarke stares at him, lips parted slightly. Before she can gather her thoughts, Bellamy hurries on. “I don’t know if you came here tonight for closure or for sex or for something else entirely. But I needed you to know that.”

Clarke licks her lips. Bellamy can’t gauge anything from her expression. She’s unreadable. “I thought you were going to say there was someone else.” Bellamy almost laughs at that. As if there could ever be anyone else. “I came here for closure,” Clarke continues. Bellamy nods. He can give her that. “But when I got here, I realised I wanted something else.”

“For me to fuck you?”

Clarke smiles. “You. Just you. I’m still in love with you too, you know.”

Bellamy’s heart skips a beat. Surely it can’t be true. She’s young and talented and gorgeous and she has her whole life ahead of her. Why on earth would she want him?

He shakes his head. “Even if that’s true. We can’t be together,” he says. “Everyone will talk. People from school will find out and they’ll figure out why I really got fired.”

“So we’ll lie,” Clarke says, as if it’s that easy. Could it be that easy? “Besides, it’s really none of their business anymore. They have no proof.”

“I don’t know,” Bellamy says.

“Please, Bellamy. I want you so much.” She reaches out and puts her hand over his.

“And you always get what you want, don’t you, sweetheart?” Bellamy says, a smile playing across his lips. Clarke surges forward to kiss him, and his smile turns into a low moan.

“I love you,” Clarke says, and this time he’s closer to believing it. “We can figure the rest out.”

“Okay,” Bellamy whispers. “Okay. But I want to do it right this time. I want to take you out on dates and introduce you to my friends. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“I want that too,” Clarke says. “But right now I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh yeah?” Bellamy says, teasing. He kisses her softly. “You need a good fucking, baby?”

“Uh huh,” Clarke nods. Bellamy gets to his knees on the bed, and Clarke lies back again, her legs falling open. Bellamy hovers over her, using one hand to prop himself up while the other strokes her pussy through her jeans.

“Those college boys couldn’t satisfy you, huh?”

“No,” Clarke agrees.

“You need a real man,” Bellamy says. He presses his mouth to her breast, at the same time he pops the button on her jeans and undoes the zip. He slips his hand into her panties, finding her soaking wet. “What about the girls, baby? They make you feel like this?”

Clarke shakes her head, spreading her legs wider as Bellamy finds her clit. “Only you can do it how I like,” she says. He plays with her, gently teasing her clit, enough to get her panties wetter, but not enough to actually give her any satisfaction. She whines, squirming on the bed, trying to get more friction from his fingers.

“How many people did you fuck, trying to find someone who could fuck you right?” Bellamy asks. Clarke’s face turns a brilliant shade of scarlet.

“What does that matter?”

“Come on, you can tell me,” Bellamy says. His fingers dive between her folds, teasing her entrance, and his lips find her neck. “I promise I won’t be jealous.”

“You will be jealous.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m jealous of all the girls you fucked, even before you met me. I hate thinking of you with anyone but me,” Clarke pants, bucking her hips, trying to get his fingers inside her. “I want to pretend like you didn’t fuck anyone else while we were apart.”

“What if I told you I was thinking of you the whole time? Every time?”

“I’d say you’re a liar.”

“I’m not lying,” he kisses her. “The amount of times I almost cried your name. It’s embarrassing.”

Clarke whimpers as Bellamy pushes his fingers into her. “Me too,” she says. “I was always thinking about you.”

“I know you were, sweetheart,” Bellamy murmurs. “But I want to know how hard you tried to forget me. How many people couldn’t measure up to me. What did my little slut get up to while she was at college?”

“Six,” Clarke says. “Is that a lot?”

“More than I was expecting,” Bellamy says. “But I should have known. You get so horny, don’t you? So desperate and needy.” He pumps his fingers inside her, and her breathing grows more and more ragged. She looks like she wants to say more, but she can’t seem to formulate words anymore. “Poor baby,” Bellamy coos. “Wish I could have been there to give you what you needed.” He pulls his fingers from her cunt and presses his aching cock to the seam of her jeans. “But don’t worry, I’m going to give you what you need now.” He rocks against her, teasing both her and himself. Clarke moans, rolling her hips back towards him.

“Please,” she says, sounding wrecked. “I need you inside me.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Bellamy says. “But first I want you to promise you won’t let anyone else fuck you ever again, okay?”

“I promise,” Clarke says. “You too. Say you only want me.”

“I only want you. I promise.”

He pulls her jeans down her legs with some effort, and then makes quick work of his own. He sheds his boxers, leaving him naked. Clarke is still wearing her sodden panties, and he runs his tongue along the her slit through the damp material, reminding himself what she tastes like. His head spins. He drags her panties down her thighs and to the floor.

“Please, please,” Clarke whines.  Bellamy silences her with a kiss, and Clarke wraps her arms around him, pulling him closer. Bellamy lets his cock graze along her slit, and she whimpers against his mouth. Bellamy pushes his cock inside her, feels her stretch to accommodate him.

“God, Clarke,” Bellamy groans. “I forgot how good you feel. You’re so fucking perfect.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke groans. “Please just fuck me.”

He gives her what she wants, because he wants it too, and he can’t hold himself back any longer anyway. He works up a steady rhythm, focused on her, on the sounds she makes, the way she breathes, the way she clings to him, the way her cunt feels, clenched around his cock.

“Bell, Bell,” Clarke whispers, her voice trembling. Bellamy isn’t even sure if she’s aware she’s saying his name over and over. She squeezes her eyes shut, digs her nails into his back, whines and squirms until he thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

“Are you gonna come, baby?” he pants. She’s so gone she can’t even reply, just moans, then bites into his shoulder as her orgasm hits her. “Fucking hell, Clarke,” Bellamy groans. He wants to keep going, doesn’t want this to end, want to make her come again before he does, but he doesn’t think he has it in him this time.

“Clarke,” he says. “Clarke—” He comes before he can finish his sentence. He meant to ask her if it was okay, but he’s already filling her up with his seed, waves of pleasure rolling over his body. “Sorry,” he whispers, once he’s done.

“What are you sorry for?” Clarke says. “You just gave me the best orgasm I’ve had in three years.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re so dumb,” Clarke laughs. “Now get off me, you’re crushing me.” Bellamy grins, then he presses a quick kiss to her lips before rolling off her. She doesn’t let him get far, not that he ever wants to be far from her again. She moulds her naked body to his side and sighs happily. Bellamy wears a stupidly satisfied smile on his face.

“Bell?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Those people I slept with. I want you to know they didn’t mean anything to me.”

“I know, baby. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“At first I was trying to forget you. Get you out of my system. Then I had a couple of short relationships, but they didn’t work out because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Bellamy turns his head to face her. “I couldn’t even think of being in a relationship unless it was with you,” Bellamy admits. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

Clarke beams. “Me too. I love you too, I mean.”

“Clarke?” Bellamy muses. “Why now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you track me down now? What made you come looking for me?”

“Oh,” Clarke swallows. “My mom dropped a box of my old stuff off to me. She was cleaning out my old room because she’s moving out. Your shirt was in there. I kind of thought I was moving on from you, but then I pulled out that shirt and I wanted you more than ever.”

“I can’t believe you kept it.”

“I wore it every night until school ended. And then I decided I had to try and move on so I put it in a box with the rest of my school stuff I didn’t want to look at anymore. I guess I couldn’t bring myself to actually throw it away though. Dumb, right?”

“Not at all.”

“I suppose you didn’t keep anything of mine?”

“I kept one of your drawings, actually. But I didn’t think it would be safe to keep anything else. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t even hold on to one pair of panties?” Clarke jokes.

“Somehow holding on to a pair of dirty panties for three years seems a little too creepy,” Bellamy laughs.

“I would’ve found it hot,” Clarke smirks.

Bellamy raises an eyebrow at her. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Clarke gives him a cheeky smile and he can’t resist kissing her, slow and tender.

“I missed you so much,” he says, after he’s pulled away. “I don’t want you to leave again.”

“I only have a few months left of college. It’s only a couple of hours from here. I can be here all the time. And then when I’m done…” she trails off.

“When you’re done?”

“Well, I want to be an artist. I can do that anywhere.”

“Including here, you mean.”

Clarke nods. “Would you want that?”

“Yes. Of course. I’d ask you to move in now if it didn’t sound totally crazy.”

Clarke beams. “Bell? You never really answered me earlier. When I asked if you were happy.”

“Well, I sure as hell am now.”

“Me too.”

It’s probably not going to be as easy as it feels right now, Bellamy knows that. People will talk. His sister won’t be happy. Clarke has to go back to college, and it’s only for a couple of months, but he still knows he’s going to miss her like crazy. But it doesn’t need to be easy. It’s _possible_ , and that’s all Bellamy needs to for him to do anything it takes to make it work. He’s still not entirely sure he deserves a second chance. Karma must be fake, because if it were real, he’d never be allowed to have it this good.

“Clarke,” he whispers, about to ask her if she wants anything to eat or drink. He quickly realises she’s already asleep. He smiles to himself, and he lets himself hope that he can have this for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with this story, even though I clearly had no idea what I was doing or where it was going. I hope you find this ending satisfying. 
> 
> If you want you can find me on tumblr @ keiraknighted or arysafics


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